


Clarity

by Darkest_Day



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Episode: s02e04 Lancelot and Guinevere, F/M, Fate, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merlin dies a lot, Role play based, canon character death, two sides of the same coin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkest_Day/pseuds/Darkest_Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur had watched many men die. Some of them were good men, people he had trained with, grown up with, people he had admired and knew. They died in battle, defending their loved ones and their brother knights. He had watched their enemies die, men who would kill him if he didn't kill them first. Men who travelled through towns to steal and rape and burn everything they touched, he had stuck his blade into their belly and taken their lives. He had blood on his hands that would never come off, but each and every one of them deserved it. </p><p>And he had watched people burn. He had watched people hanged. He had watched people get their heads severed from the rest of their body. They were nameless faces, sorcerers who would kill him and his family and friends given the chance. They were sorcerers, people who were corrupt and used their power to take advantage of others. </p><p>He had never, in his life, watched a man burn for saving his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nef/gifts).



> I've gifted this work to the person who helped me write this. It never would have been possible without her. This was originally a role play, and I thought I'd turn it into a story. I really enjoyed role playing it, so I thought it would be cool to write it out. And it's been fun! Unfortunately, I only had the posts I wrote, so I apologize if some of Merlin's actions are skipped over. I did the best I could.  
> I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading.

It started, continued, then ended with the sky. 

As a child, he had stared at the vastness of it, that people across the kingdom could look up to the same clouds he could. He had spent so much time staring at it, watching it, studying it. It was never the same, it constantly changed. When his life changed, at each new chapter, there were new shapes in the clouds, the sun played with them and stained them deep reds in the evenings. It helped him cope those rough nights, when everything began to close in on him.   

When he met Merlin, he stopped seeking advice in the sky because it was Merlin who helped him with each change. But he had never forgotten about it, and he never would. Merlin had his head up in the clouds at all times. He was cheeky with eyes stable as the summer sky in twilight. He had a sharp tongue and could bite back every insult Arthur threw at him. No one else had been stupid enough, or brave enough, to talk back to the King's son like he did. 

But somewhere along the line, Merlin had earned his trust. He didn't know how he had done it, but somehow his slightly mentally addled servant had earned it rightfully. If nothing else, Merlin was loyal, and behind his cluelessness, he held years of wisdom that still surprised him whenever it came out. 

He thought about Guinevere and the way her hand had clutched so tightly at Lancelot's, as though he were the only thing keeping her from floating away up into the stars. And he had thought, in that moment, that he would be the one to force her to decide between the two of them. 

It was Lancelot who made that decision, he had left in the night, giving Arthur his permission to have her as his. But he couldn't help but wonder who she may have chosen, if Lancelot had stayed. 

Would she choose the man who was unlike any other he had ever met - brave and strong and honourable. A man who had never lifted his finger against a woman in his life, who had never harmed anyone needlessly, who had never taken a life without just reason. 

Or would she choose Arthur? The one that bullied his servants and truly behaved like an asa most of the time. He wasn't so sure that, compared to Lancelot, he had any redeeming qualities. 

So he had stepped back these last few days, letting her have the freedom to still choose. Because she could, if she wanted, she could come to Arthur or she could rush into Lancelot's arms. 

He stood in the window, peering outside. Contemplating the fog of the morning and the chill against the glass. He hadn't slept much recently, Lancelot and Guinevere's affection still so fresh in his mind. So he was dressed, ready for the day, and waiting for breakfast. 

Merlin was late. 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind Merlin came barrelling into the room, talking, no doubt, about oversleeping or some kind of rubbish like that, knocking something over in the process. "Merlin" He said, without turning. His hands folded casually behind his bak. No one else was that clumsy, it could only be Merlin. "Do you know what time it is?" He asked. 

He turned slowly, fixing his servant with his firm gaze. He wasn't really that bothered if Merlin was late, it meant he could fix him with a seemingly endless list of chores. 

Truly, he didn't care if Merlin completed it all or not, but the list would be long. "Have you forgotten how to tell the time, sire?" Merlin snipped back, an amused quirk in his lips, setting the tray on the table. "You should have Gaius look at that." 

"I expect you to tidy this room, polish my boots, muck out the stables, and prepare my horse." He said as he sat at the table, inspecting the plate. "And don't forget your usual chores, get this all done by noon. We're going hunting today." 

Merlin's expression flattened slightly, it wasn't likely Merlin could complete it all by noon. Knowing Merlin, he would probably skip out on the stables. But they would be done by the evening anyways. Let Merlin fret about it, let Arthur chide him for not doing it. 

And let Merlin call him names. 

Some people were appalled at the way Merlin talked to the future king. Arthur just laughed. "Great" Merlin drawled, already beginning to pick up the stray items on the floor. "We're really going _again_?" 

"Yes, Merlin, again. It's not a hard concept." He settled in to eat, and not surprisingly, it was cold. 

"If my breakfast is cold tomorrow I'm putting you in the stocks for the day." He declared, but would eat anyways. He wouldn't put him there (though he might, just for fun), just for cold breakfast. He said it, mostly, for a reaction. He liked Merlin's reactions. They were always so different, sometimes he'd just glare, others he'd laugh and taunt him right back. There were times Arthur was sure Merlin was going to throw a punch, and he would have welcomed it. 

Merlin was a lovely distraction, Merlin made him forget about things like Lancelot and Guinevere, like difficult decisions he would have to make. And right now, distractions were good. Hunting, training with the knights, were good distractions, but they couldn't compare to Merlin, who had a way of forcing him to deal with the problem, or making him forget completely. 

"I'd like to see you try." Merlin bit back, Arthur could see the slight grin on his face. 

"Get out, Merlin." Arthur said casually, but the smile on his face meant Merlin stuck around, tidying until Arthur had finished eating. He watched Merlin take the tray and leave, waiting until the door closed before he stood. 

Some of the newer knights were idiots. Too eager to please and ready and willing to run off to the king to tattle on Merlin. The older ones, the ones who were rowdy idiots, who teased Merlin right along with him, they were the ones that he would go hunting with if Merlin came with them. Merlin was generally well-liked, he was the bridge that separated him and the knights, him and the rest of his people. 

He wore simple leathers, rather than the full chain. They wouldn't be out for too long, they'd be back in time for supper. Merlin had prepared seven horses, and Arthur was momentarily shocked at Merlin's ability to guess just how many they needed. There were five others with him, plus one for Merlin. 

He grinned as they prepared, strapping weapons to the saddles and mounting. He spotted Merlin wandering towards them, and straightened in the saddle. "Ah, there you are!" He called. "We almost left without you, but I said we should wait. I know how much you love hunting." 

Merlin grumbled something, patting his horse's snout before clambering on. He'd never seen someone mount a horse like Merlin did, ungracefully and as though he were about to throw himself off the other side of his back instead of on. Even children had more grace than him while they climbed the side of the horse like a mountain. 

They took off at a quick pace, the sun was shining above them, so he figured they had about twenty minutes before Merlin started complaining. He hadn't even planned on this today, before Merlin had stumbled in and Arthur had decided he would enjoy making Merlin grumble. And if they stayed in the castle, Merlin might prod him to express his _feelings_ again. After speaking about Guinevere at the river, he had no desire to expose himself anymore. 

None of the other knights brought their servants, or pages, on these trips. Arthur wondered if maybe he should refrain from bringing his. But, then again, Merlin was good for a laugh, he was the prince, if he wanted to bring his servant he damn well would. 

They took a trail that was a bit newer, one that curved and turned more often than anything they usually took. At the next clearing, they'd stop the horses and set out on foot. 

"It's going to rain." Merlin said sullenly, Arthur grinned, looking back over his shoulder at him. Right on time, Merlin was getting far too predictable. 

"It's not going to rain." Arthur replied, "look at the sky." He tipped his head back to look, "stop your whining." It was a long ride to find a nice enough clearing, a small stream winding through the trees alongside it. It was a bit farther away than they would normally go for just a hunting trip, but by some unspoken agreement, they refused to leave the horses in a place without water. 

The sky had turned on them while they travelled, darkening a little bit. Unfortunately, Arthur had a slight feeling that Merlin was right, it was going to rain and it was going to rain soon. They dismounted, securing the horses loosely, and Arthur happily piled Merlin's arms with the crossbow and the bolts. Maybe he would try to teach Merlin how to kill something today. 

They were walking through the forest by the time the rain started. Just a few drops skirting through the trees. The laughter they shared earlier was stilled, chuckles less frequent. 

"It's raining." Merlin pointed out helpfully, Arthur punched his arm in a way that was nearly affectionate.

"Oh shut up." He said, be wasn't going to admit that Merlin had been right. "A little rain won't kill you."

Arthur still enjoyed himself, and so did the knights. Aside from Merlin's occasional complaining, but he still suspected that Merlin enjoyed clambering through the grass and stones to scare off their prey. 

They caught a couple rabbits by the time the rain started to get worse, thunder rumbled off in the distance. They were on flat ground, at the edge of hills littered with caves. They could make it back to Camelot, but it was a long journey and he knew the horses would rather get into some kind of shelter. 

The horses were nervous when they got to them. The little river was flooding, the small clearing provided little shelter. The ground was too soft to ride, so they led the horses into the woods, straying off the paths where the trees parted. The ground was firmer. 

It took half an hour to find a suitable cave, empty save for a cluster of rocks near back of it. The horses were taken care of first, each man tending to them before themselves, patting them down and securing them. They used their cloaks to pat them dry, before arranging them on carefully placed rocks and the edges of saddles. 

Merlin, as soon as his horse was content, slid away from the rest and sat on the ground, back against the stone wall. Arms folded over his chest as the rest of them gathered stray sticks that weren't wet. The fire smoked and smouldered at first, before drying out enough to burn properly. Lighting the cave. He didn't bother ordering Merlin around, let him sulk. The knights all knew enough to keep moving when they were cold, if they all sat still they would be as miserable as Merlin looked. 

Arthur peeled off layers, as Leon got to cooking the meat over the fire. Merlin was still sitting where Arthur had last seen him, shivering. He smiled to himself, of course Merlin would rather sit there and mope if he wasn't given any orders not to. Arthur wasn't so cold, not really. His tunic was a little damp, but as he helped prod at the meat it was drying off nicely. 

The cave smelled of wet horse and smoke, until the rabbit began to take over. He grabbed enough for both him and Merlin, took one of the spare blankets they always brought (just for situations like this) and sat down next to him, the blanket draped around his shoulders. He was still a little cold, but they would be fine until morning.

"You'd be warmer if you moved around." Arthur pointed out, he could feel Merlin's chattering next to him. With their meals cooked and in their laps to eat, they were all settling in little groups for warmth. "Here," Arthur started, handing the meat to Merlin. "This is warm, it'll help, now stop your chattering." 

Surprisingly, Merlin's clothes weren't wet. Arthur's were mostly dry by now. He didn't think much of it, maybe Merlin found a breeze. 

Merlin ate, staring gloomily ahead of them. He still looked absolutely miserable, but Arthur couldn't feel too sorry for him, he had been the one to sit and brood rather than help. But, Merlin was also his servant. He had a duty to him, to make sure that he didn't freeze to death. Arthur's words were too sharp sometimes, too cruel, he didn't often notice it - there weren't many servants who would handle it as elegantly as Merlin did. 

Besides, Merlin had to know that Arthur valued him, especially as he shifted a bit closer and dropped half of the blanket around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin leaned into him, slightly, his arm cold against his but quickly they warmed up. Occasionally, a bright flash of lighting would light up the mouth of the cave, the thunder rumbling behind it. 

It was peaceful, in a way, the flickering orange and crackle of the fire and the rain against the trees. They had finished the meat, so Arthur stood to grab something to sleep on. They hadn't planned on staying out so long, so they had no bedrolls. But his cloak was dry. It wasn't thick, but it was better than nothing else. He went back towards Merlin, spreading the cloak onto the ground and bundled up cloth (wonderfully dry, he was pleased) and tugged the blanket off of Merlin. The movement swept Merlin's hair into a mess as he settled down onto the cloak. 

He laughed, keeping his voice quiet as he lay on half, leaving the other half for Merlin. The others were huddles of bodies, spread around the cave, clumped together for warmth. It would be worse if it were winter, likely they would all be forced side by side in one long line to keep from freezing. 

Merlin moved in beside him, settling with his back to Arthur. Arthur watched him fondly for a moment, before settling and pressing his back to Merlin's. A few seconds of shifting had them both comfortable, the blanket, scratchy and thick, draped over them.

He woke up later, warm and happy, one cheek was freezing but the rest of him was fine. Merlin's hair smelled like horses and lavender, which was an awfully weird combination. He blinked his eyes open, lifting his head. Everyone had fallen asleep, the fire had died down, so he settled again. One hand was pinned under him, or maybe it was under Merlin, he couldn't actually tell. 

The other was tucked under his chin, his folded elbow resting on Merlin's arm. He fell back asleep quickly to the sound of rain and still distant grumble of thunder. 

He felt Merlin move next to him, which woke him up again. Merlin was slowly waking up, moving about and finally sitting up. A shocking bast of cold air swept under the blankets, the places that were warm freezing, all their combined heat lost in one movement. He groaned unhappily, opening his eyes as Merlin stood, off to tend to the fire. 

By the time Arthur had sat up and gathered the extra layers he'd been sleeping on to put back on, Merlin had lit the fire again. It was still early, Arthur had let his guard down and he was simply enjoying the sleepy morning. As he walked, Leon was awake and had given him a tired smile, a short nod. He checked on the horses, extracting their supplies from some and bringing it to the fire, where Merlin was sitting. He sat beside him, Merlin had been so quiet since last night. 

He didn't think much of it, only sat beside him and chewed a bit of bread thoughtfully as the quiet of nighttime faded away into idle morning chatter. He enjoyed mornings like these, when everything was peaceful, warm, and they could stay here until their peacefulness turned into the anxious restlessness of heading home. 

It took a second for everything to change, two seconds for Arthur to react. The steel of a sword shrieking out to play shattered the peace. Each and every one of them were on their feet. 

The bandits were swarming the mouth of the cave, blocking their exit. Their bodies creating long shadows against the white light of the sky. 

They weren't the normal idiots they came across, no, they had found their makeshift camp and had planned their attack for first thing in the morning, before they were fully awake. A knight of Camelot could wake up and be ready to fight in an instant. Waking up on their own dragged at them. He rushed to his sword, nearly getting his arm sliced open in the process. He fought beside Merlin, who was unarmed but had somehow managed not to die yet. 

He took down a few of them, obviously, but there were too many for only six of them plus a somewhat useless manservant. From what he could see, peering at their silhouettes, some just stood in a fierce line only letting in more men. 

For the first time in a long time, Arthur felt a sliver of worry. He wore no armour, only leathers that would do nothing to the point of a sharp sword. They might have been skilled, but they were outnumbered, they were cornered. This could be the day he died. 

He had kept Merlin behind him, trying to protect him from the glint of metal. But then, Merlin was stepping out from behind him, walking in front of him while Arthur tried to head him off, tried to keep him from getting killed. "Merlin!" He shouted, reaching out, trying to manhandle him back into safety. 

Instead, the attackers dropped dead. Thrown back against the walls with blood curdling cracks, tossed lifelessly, as if they were more sacks of leaves than people. Something dark settled into his chest at the sight of the bandits, the ones who hadn't entreated the cave as they scattered. Each knight lowered their sword, waiting Arthur's command, Arthur's direction, and staring at Merlin. 

Merlin stood with his hand out before him, the white light glowing around him. He turned, slowly, letting his hand fall to the side. His eyes were glowing, bright gold and his cheeks were streaked with tears. 

The knights looked on helplessly, looking as torn as Arthur felt. If he was his father's son, he'd have run Merlin through then and there. And he knew that's what Merlin was waiting for, in that moment, he knew Merlin wouldn't have fought, he would die by Arthur's hand if that's what it took. The look burned into his mind, the dirt streaked down his cheeks, Arthur would never forget the brilliant gold in those blue eyes. 

He felt hollow, magic equalled death. But in any other situation, someone saving their lives like this would have given them praise, nobility, recognition. But Merlin had used magic. His mind was running over the same thoughts, over and over, he inhaled sharply. He had to react. 

He knew he could trust the men that were with him with his life - but could he trust them with Merlin's? Could this secret be kept? He wanted to hit him, for a moment, because while Arthur had been trusting Merlin with his quiet secrets, Merlin had been hiding this from him. 

He couldn't see Merlin harming any of them, Merlin was too kind. If Merlin had wanted Arthur dead, he would be dead. Arthur raised his sword, Merlin didn't flinch, he only stared at him, meeting his eyes. 

Merlin said nothing, he didn't ask or beg for forgiveness, he didn't say a word. Arthur stepped forwards, his eyes stricken and his expression distraught - betraying his actions as he pressed the sword tip to Merlin's throat. He only tilted his head back, offering his skin to slice open if Arthur chose. 

He dropped the sword, something that might have been a smile flickering across Merlin's face. The sound echoed through the room, he felt a little bit sick as each knight followed his lead. His voice was a little too toneless, his heart thundering in his ears, his words a little too soft as he spoke. "The act of sorcery is punishable by death." Merlin still stared at him, he could see the fear in his eyes. "We'd be dead if not for you." 

He paused, for only a moment, as relief swept over Merlin. He could see his shoulders sag. "Go." He instructed, reaching out to clap his palm over Merlin's bony shoulder. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell him where to go, what to do, that he should use every last bit of magic he had learned to keep himself alive. 

Instead, he said "Thank you.", and Merlin gave him a watery smile. He felt Merlin's hand reach up to his, his skin dry and soft, Arthur's hand moving to clasp Merlin's for a moment. 

Then Merlin was gone, just outside, where the rain trickled down, Merlin was preparing his horse. 

The silence around them as they gathered their things, checked the bodies for any reason that may have led to the attack, then out to the horses, was deafening. It was only the patter of the rain, the snuffle of the horses, the missing piece that was Merlin. 

Normally, they'd have ridden fast and hard to get back to Camelot, so they could dry their clothes and warm up. Instead, none of them made any kind of movement to go fast. Instead, they kept a slow pace. His heart was thick in his chest, they were protecting Merlin. 

He couldn't tell if he wanted to be angry or not, or if he wanted to feel betrayed, or if he wanted to go back and find Merlin so they could just pretend it didn't happen. 

They got to Camelot in the late afternoon, soaked through the bone and cold like ice. His father noticed instantly that Merlin wasn't there, when they walked in. Instead of splitting up to change and warm up, they spoke to Uther. 

"Merlin is a sorcerer." Arthur said, his voice soft, hesitating because he hadn't actually thought of what to say to him. 

"It was last night, my lord." Leon said, suddenly, bowing his head politely for a moment before lifting it. "The rain was too much, so we found shelter in the early evening. We caught Merlin using magic, he took one of the horses and ran off. He searched the forest for as long as we could, but there was no sign of him. And this morning, too, the rain has washed any sign of him away." 

Arthur could have hugged Leon, while Arthur had been busy contemplating Merlin himself, he had failed to come up with a story. Instead, Leon had been the one to do it. 

In the corner of the room, he could see Gaius' face, his expression looked as though the worst had happened. Dimly, he realized that Gaius had known all about Merlin, this was his worst fear, wasn't it? 

"Mer-The sorcerer didn't wear a cloak or anything, we'd already set up for the night. We'd already unloaded everything, so he won't have any supplies, just a horse. It was cold last night, the rivers were flooding, if he hasn't died from the cold he'll be dead soon." 

The thought of Merlin dying was cold, but he nodded. 

"It's been a long trip, father, forgive me, but I'm certain we would all like to return to our rooms to warm up." 

"Yes, yes, of course." Uther said firmly. "Send out search parties, bring this sorcerer in." 

Arthur nodded, and in his room there was a hot bath waiting in the corner and a tray of food. A servant was just pouring the wine when Arthur entered. "Send Gaius to me in an hour's time." Arthur said softly. "Tell him it is important." 

The servant left without a word, leaving Arthur to sink into the bath and try not to think about Merlin, probably underdressed and freezing out there. Hopefully, by the time search parties had gone out, Merlin would be long gone. Safe, somewhere where Camelot wouldn't find him. Uther was no doubt already organizing search parties. Arthur trusted his knights to give a false location of their camp. They had already lied to protect Merlin, they would do it again. 

He was warm again, dressed in dry clothes, sitting at the table over the uneaten meal. He had poked at it, he didn't feel entirely like eating. The knock at the door startled him, the cup he was balancing on its edges nearly toppled over. 

Gaius entered, looking wary. "Lock the door." Arthur instructed, Gaius tensed as he obeyed. 

"I've already been questioned." Gaius said shortly. 

"That's not why I asked you here." Arthur said, his voice soft. "I wanted you to know the truth, without Merlin we all would have died." It caught Gaius' attention, Arthur nodded for him to sit and the man did. He poured him a drink, slid the cup across the table to him. He told him exactly what had happened, that they had been cornered, that Merlin had saved their lives and that he had told him to take a horse and run. 

"He's had hours to get away." Arthur finished. 

Gaius had never showed anyone much sorrow, he was always strong and always given his carefully calculated answers. Even if Merlin was evil, Arthur thought, then Arthur had at least repaid him for what he had done. 

In so many ways, Merlin had power over him. Merlin knew how Arthur worked, he knew how to get under his skin in a way no one else did. Merlin knew his secrets, his habits. And there was nothing Arthur could do now. 

"I'm sorry, Gaius." Arthur said into the silence, Gaius exhaled slowly. 

Then they got to talking, and from there Arthur began to know Merlin's secrets too. And god, Merlin had done so much for all of them. It made guilt rise in him, burning just under his blood. He should have instructed his knights to lie, so they could bring Merlin back with them, so they didn't have to send him away. His room felt too empty. 

By the next morning, the rain had stopped. Uther ordered a full-on search for Merlin, the man who had 'infiltrated the heart of Camelot', and Arthur obeyed. Leon came with him, two others that had seen Merlin's magic as well, and as they saddled up the horses, he thought back to spying Guinevere in the halls, her eyes puffy, downcast, as though she had been crying. 

He knew her and Merlin had been friends, and vaguely, as he saddled his own horse, wondered if her decision had been made yet. 

They rode all day, searching for signs of Merlin, so they could know where he was so they could throw the others off his trail. 

They found nothing. They barely spoke. They didn't search, other than scanning the ground as they went, they simply rode through the curving trails. 

Then they returned to Camelot, the worst had happened. 

Merlin had been found. 

They had him locked away in the dungeons. 

Arthur felt sick to his stomach. Merlin was going to die in the morning. 

He locked himself in his rooms for hours, pacing the stone restlessly, peering at the nighttime sky. Merlin should have tried harder, Merlin was a sorcerer! He should have been better than this, he should have been able to get himself far, far away. He should have used his magic to keep himself from getting captured. 

How did he handle the thought of someone who he had trusted burning? How did he deal with it? How should he react? 

He wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and made his way to the dungeons, he was going to tell him that he was _so_ sorry and that he had tried so hard to make sure he would be able to get away. 

He couldn't bring himself to see him, something was beginning to ache inside him. So he went back to his room, trying to sleep but failing. Instead, he settled for sitting at the window. Should he try to stop this? Try to break Merlin out? 

The air was dry now, and when the sun rose - he could see it in the distance - Merlin was going to die. 

He didn't know that Leon had found his way to Merlin and switched the cold iron they had put him in with replicas, ones that Guinevere had made. Leon had apologized, sincerely, tried to tell Merlin what they had tried to do but he had to leave before he could. 

Morgana fought with Uther that morning, screeching at him, they fought and she was dragged off in chains, restrained, locked into her room with the door bolted from the outside. 

Arthur watched the servants build the wood that would burn him. Soon, it would be lit. The time for acting was quickly slipping away, soon it would be too late. 

Arthur stood at his father's side as the crowd gathered, while the sun was bright. He wished he had the strength to fight like Morgana had, he wished he had that power in him. He remembered watched them drag her away, her eyes wet, her expression fierce as she vowed Uther would not forget about this. 

He could see Gwen in the crowd, clutching at Gaius' hand as though he was the only thing keeping her from standing. 

His heart nearly stopped as Merlin was dragged through the crowd. They parted as Uther shouted to them, Arthur heard nothing. The sky seemed to darken, turn grey around them, the beginning of a deadly storm, a breeze whistled hard in his ears. They strapped Merlin to the stake, hands bound behind it, knees bent, the idea that this was the last time he would ever see Merlin burned into his mind. What were the last words he had said to him? He didn't even remember. 

Clenched jaw, hands clutching the rail of the balcony tightly, Arthur watched as they carried the torches to the pile of wood. He didn't hear his father speak, that another sorcerer was going to die for his crimes, that Camelot was safe, but he saw Uther raise his hand, fingers stretched out. 

When Uther closed his fist, the torches fell onto the pile. 

Arthur had watched many men die. Some of them were good men, people he had trained with, grown up with, people he had admired and knew. They died in battle, defending their loved ones and their brother knights. He had watched their enemies die, men who would kill him if he didn't kill them first. Men who travelled through towns to steal and rape and burn everything they touched, he had stuck his blade into their belly and taken their lives. He had blood on his hands that would never come off, each and every one of them deserved it. 

And he had watched people burn. He had watched people hanged. He had watched people get their heads severed from the rest of their body. They were nameless faces, sorcerers who would kill him and his family and friends given the chance. They were sorcerers, people who were corrupt and used their power to take advantage of others. 

He had never, in his life, watched a man burn for saving his life. 

The brilliant red flames caught quickly. If he listened hard enough, he thought he might have heard Morgana's screams, thrashing her hands into the glass windows of her room. Perhaps that should have been him, locked in his room trying to get out instead of standing beside his father like he meant all of this, watching a good man die. He should have thought up something sneaky, something that would get Merlin out of here. Merlin looked up at him, his eyes tired, drugged almost, and mouthed something to him. Arthur couldn't make out what it was, as the smoke gathered. 

He watched the life leave Merlin's body as the flames spread up his clothes, searing his skin, Merlin tipped his head back, peering at the sky above him, his body sagged against the bonds. He watched the fire shine so brightly against the greying skies, he watched Merlin's skin blacken, the smoke darken, he forced himself to see this, eyes wide open, the images burning into his mind painfully. He should have done something, he should have _fought_. Instead, he watched him die. He watched Gwen clutch at Gaius' hand, watched her father grip his daughter's shoulders. 

The stake fell, no longer able to stay upright. It caused a ripple through the crowd, he couldn't see anything left of Merlin anymore, the flames were too bright, too much. But he could still hear it burn. 

His father had left long ago, he never watched these to the end. Arthur couldn't move, he was frozen. He watched as the crowd parted, began to return to their homes, the spectacle over. He watched as Morgana rushed out of the doors of Camelot, finding Gwen and throwing her arms around each other. 

At some point, his vision had become too blurry to see anything anymore, just the heat from the flames, as if he'd been standing right in front of it, and not from the balcony. The fire was left to burn itself out, and Arthur just stood there, skin getting cold from the breeze, the smell of smoke imprinting itself into his mind. 

It started raining as the ash was swept up, slowly, so he only stood in the rain, letting it soak into him, completely alone after everyone else had gone inside. He shouldn't have let this happen, he could have changed this. He could have done something else, he should have…

But instead he had been a coward, too afraid of his father's rule to defy him like this. 

He may as well have set the flames himself. 

The rain was thick, blurring the world around him as if the sky itself was mourning Merlin's loss. 

That day, it hurt to keep going. The rain fell and fell, washing out the roads. It was impossible to do anything, training was cancelled, and Arthur was given another servant. The man was prim, proper, he stood with his back straight and his head held high. He was never late, he did everything well, the fire was lit quietly and his breakfast was hot in the mornings. 

Merlin could never make the fire quietly, he was used to waking up in the cold. Now, with the air warm in his chambers, he could scarcely get himself out of bed. The servant didn't question Arthur, he knew his place, he didn't poke and prod, he just took Arthur's abuse. His words biting and too harsh for the calm rainy morning. But the servant never stood down, standing tall and accepting Arthur's anger with 'thank you, sire' rather than the word 'prat'. 

He felt helpless. 

Morgana had stopped speaking to him, and he hadn't seen Guinevere since the Merlin died. The guilt was thick in his stomach, and with Morgana not speaking to him and Gwen making her decision, Arthur was alone. Merlin had always been the gap between him and everyone else. Those 'friends' grew distant. 

But he would be king one day, loneliness came with the job. 

When it stopped raining, as the ground started to dry and firm up enough to travel over, he caught sight of the lovely Guinevere, kissing her father's cheek and embracing Morgana before climbing onto the back of Morgana's horse. 

She rode away after saying her good-byes, Arthur watched her until she was out of Camelot. Until he couldn't see her anymore. It seemed that Arthur had made her decision for her after all. The good and noble Lancelot was the man for her. Everything was different around Camelot, now, but he wasn't sure if everything had changed, or if it was just Arthur. Without Merlin, who was he? 

There was something weird about The Lady Catrina, weeks after Merlin's death, Arthur thought, but at first he couldn't put his finger on it. It was when his father decided to marry her that he began to notice there was something wrong. Morgana had figured it out, but by then, it was too late to do anything. 

Camelot was crumbling under his fingertips, as that disgusting thing stood by his father's side, still wearing her lady-like appearance. He could feel Camelot's fall in his bones. 

He lived with it, and so did everyone else. Only a few knew about Catrina's true nature. This was his life, now, as he worked the knights hard on the grass. Each day was another challenge, another battle to pluck himself out of bed, another string of angry words directed at the manservant who wore red at his throat. 

Morgana wasn't sleeping very much, he could see that much. Her new maidservant was lovely, but she wasn't Gwen. He could see her loneliness, and she refused to speak to him. The last time they had spoken, it was when they were trying to find a way to break the spell over Uther. He didn't think he could blame her, the only real reason he could stand himself over his cowardice was because he didn't think about it. He cut that part out, shut the guilt away to a part of him he couldn't reach, letting it fester harmlessly, where he couldn't feel it. 

He was getting to be himself again, bit by bit, as time passed and he stopped being so cruel to his servant. 

Arthur accepted a challenge, a lone knight who held a sword to his throat, removed her helmet and let her long blonde hair fall down her chest. He accepted her terms, willingly. His father insisted that he didn't go, the troll that called herself Queen and Uther's wife told him to, perhaps hoping that Arthur would wind up dead somehow. 

In the end, Morgause got what she wanted. 

He saw his mother for the first time. All around him, the world darkened, it was just he and his mother, who smelled like honey and flowery sunshine. He had never heard her voice, never seen her face, never met her until now, until she cupped his cheek with her delicate hands and told her that she was so proud of him. 

He learned how she died. 

The fact that Merlin's life had been burned out of him because of this, because Uther had sacrificed his mother, brought white hot rage flooding to his eyes. He returned to Camelot, fought with his father. Sword to sword, father against son, his mother was dead because Uther didn't understand, Merlin was dead because his father hadn't let go. 

Uther died too, that day, right beside the last piece of Arthur's youth, and the sky stayed clear and bright, as though it refused to mourn Uther's passing. 

Gaius found him on the floor, leaning against the wall. Blood drying on his hands, his father's body across the room beside the red pool. The sword would rust, he thought numbly, blood on his eyelashes and his cheeks, as he stared ahead unseeingly. He watched Gaius go to Uther first, confirming that he was actually dead before going to Arthur. 

His skin was greyish, Gaius patted his cheeks and tried to rouse him. "Arthur," the voice was so far away. "Come back to me, come on. Arthur." His breathing was slow, he felt dizzy, on the verge of passing out. 

He was on the ground, then, not sure how he had got there, lying on his side, staring at the back of his father's head. This was not how he was supposed to take the throne, he thought, not like this. Never like this. 

Everything was hazy, when he was aware again he was in Gaius' rooms. An eye for an eye, he supposed, Uther had killed his mother and for that, he had to pay. And he did, he had watched the King of Camelot lay in a pool of his own blood, drying sticky and dark on the ground. 

Gaius told him that Catrina has been accused of murdering him, so he burned her the next day in the courtyard for her actions. For betraying Camelot and fooling the king with her magic. It was easy to change what had happened, to make it sound as though she had been the one to kill Uther, and not his son. 

With Uther's funeral came Arthur's crowning, it felt too early, so wrong, he wasn't ready, there was too much blood on his hands. 

Morgause became a part of Camelot and Morgana's friend. He knew she had magic, he had seen her use it, but he did nothing about it. He found he couldn't bring himself to care, and he couldn't bring himself to blame her, either. Though he did not entirely welcome her, he did not send her away. 

His lies were piling up now. He had let Merlin go and lied about it, he had lied about trying to find him, he had lied about his father's death, and with him as King already accepting Morgause's magic with a quiet ignorance, Morgana became interested in magic. 

He wondered if Morgause planned on killing him, vaguely, one night as he sat in his rooms with the moonlight at his back. Perhaps she would take pity on him and influence him instead, make him do what she wanted. 

Each day shone so brightly, as if everything was okay. It seemed like years since Merlin had died. He still missed his smile and the strange smell of his hair. Horses and lavender. 

Uther had been dead two weeks when a girl in a cage was hauled through the nighttime alleys of Camelot. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny, almost, how she had once yearned for death. And now, after finding a sliver of happiness, here it was.

The night had been so cold, so cruel to her. Her arms bore the signs of abuse, shackles clamped too tightly over thin wrists, fingers swollen, her clothes ragged and torn and dirty. She couldn't remember what they used to look like. But this was her fate, she could accept this. Perhaps it was best to die than to continue living like this. She was okay with that, really, she wouldn't run and she wouldn't try to escape.

She used to be afraid, she used to fear getting hurt - it was a part of her life now. They had never been kind.

She didn't know what they planned for her, perhaps the relief of death, perhaps more pain. A cage could hold her when she was at her worst, but she was at their mercy when she was just a girl. A small girl with nothing to defend herself with.

The guards outside the cage were talking about money, about getting their cut. Her eyes widened, clutching her knees tighter to her chest. If she were to die, they would have no use to 'sell' her. Dread washed over her, she bowed her head. Couldn't this all just end?

The heavy thump of bodies hitting the dirt caught her attention, she looked up slowly. The guards were on the floor, and a boy with bright eyes was opening the cage door. The way his eyes shone, it was magic wasn't it?

She hesitated as he held out his hand. "I'll keep you safe." He said, his voice soft, his words careful and kind.

He stood, waiting for her, while she stayed still. She couldn't hurt anyone if she were in this cage, it was better for everyone if she were here.

But she reached out, slowly, placing her hand in his. He helped her down, her feet touching the soft earth for the first time in what felt like years. She could hardly stand, but the boy kept her upright as he hurried her along. They didn't stop, winding through houses and walls until the boy finally stopped. She pressed her back against the wall and sank to the ground, clutching her knees and trying not to move her hands anymore.

"T-thank you." She said, voice hoarse. They were far away from anyone that could see them, they were safe. Or at least, she was. He wasn't, because she didn't have long now before she would change and turn into that creature again.

"Let's get these off of you." The boy said, he was probably only a few years older than her, she carefully held out her hands. The weight of the shackles falling off was a breath of air after drowning, she clutched her arms to her chest and flexed her fingers. It felt so good to have them off. "I can heal that for you."

She looked up at him again, chewing on her chapped lips, before holding her wrists out again. His hands were warm on her skin, his fingertips kind, as the swelling went down. His eyes were orange and when he pulled away there were no more open wounds. Only scars, but that was okay. Her scars didn't need to go away.

"What were you doing in that cage?" The boy asked, sitting down just in front of her, peering at her. His dark hair was messy.

"I'm dangerous." She couldn't meet his eyes anymore, and looked away. She couldn't tell him yet, but she would soon, before it happened. So he could get away or take her down before she hurt him. Her thoughts kept spinning.

To her surprise, the boy chuckled. "I hardly think someone as beautiful as you could be dangerous."

The compliment was a shock to the system, nearly rattling her world off its hinges. "W-who are you?" She asked, he was kind and he was warm, she needed to know his name.

"It's Merlin." The boy said, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. "Who are you?" He returned as her hand fell from his.

"Freya." Her voice was so quiet, she couldn't remember the last time someone had wanted to know her name. She was just a thing to her, they called her whatever they wanted. Merlin beamed, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile.

"That's a lovely name. You look cold, take this." With that, he was shedding his coat and placing it over her shoulders. It was a bit like a slap in the face, something warm over her bare shoulders. She threaded her arms into it, wrapping it tight around herself gratefully. She felt like crying, no one said such kind things to her, no one paid her that kind of attention. No one did this for her, she was more comfortable on the hard ground in the middle of the night than she ever had been before.

But time was running out, she would need to tell him soon.

+=+

Arthur was being summoned, he hadn't been sleeping well lately, tonight he had managed to fall asleep easily. He wasn't impressed.

"My lord." The man was saying, littered with scars with dark unkempt hair, rather large looking, he wasn't so sure if it was muscle or fat. "I apologize for requesting your time so late at night, but these matters are urgent." Arthur only gave a short nod for him to continue.

"We have a dangerous creature that disguises itself as a woman." Arthur frowned slightly. "It's escaped, we don't know how but it's gone, and it's going to start attacking Camelot soon."

Arthur sighed, something seemed a bit strange here, but he shrugged anyways. "We will keep an eye out, if you see it alert one of the guards, and it will be taken care of."

+=+

"Do you have anyone to go home to?" Merlin asked softly, "anyone who's missing you?" He was searching through a small bag he had strapped over his shoulder.

The small smile that had somehow appeared, slipped away at the words. "No." She said, shaking her head in one jerky motion. "I don't have anyone." No one in her village would want her to return. They feared her.

Merlin didn't fear her - but he would soon.

It didn't take long for her to feel it, the change. She swept to her shaky legs, pulling the lovely warm coat off of her and tossing it at Merlin. "Y-you should leave." She begged, taking a few steps away from him. "Please." Her voice shook, "I don't want to hurt you."

She belonged in the cage, she shouldn't have left. But this little bit of time, these few minutes, with someone who was kind made the end of her life seem like something that would be okay. She was going to die soon.

Merlin was stepping towards her, trying to each out. "You won't hurt me." Merlin said gently, "what's going on?"

"I change." Was all she could choke on, flattening herself against a wall. "I can't control it. It happens every night." Her words stumbled out of her mouth, rushed and hurried, but it was getting to be too late, she could feel it.

She cried out, trying to fight it. She tried every night to keep it from happening, but each night, it happened.

Her skin grew fur, sleek and shiny black, wings extended from her shoulder blades, fangs in her mouth, paws instead of hands, wicked sharp claws instead of fingernails. The creature took over as she screamed for control. The creature shouldn't hurt Merlin, it couldn't hurt the one person who had given her kindness. Merlin looked so shocked, his hand out, trying to defend himself from its attack.

From her attack, she just wasn't strong enough to control it. If only she could shut her eyes to it, if only Merlin would simply end her then and there. But the creature tried to survive, it would try to keep itself alive.

The creature recoiled as Merlin started speaking, as his eyes flared gold, silently she thanked him, this was it. Relief.

The creature howled, then, tilting its head back as if in pain. But she felt nothing as the heavy body fell to the ground, closing its eyes.

Freya opened them.

It was an instant shock to the system, her eyes widening, because this was all her. She rose her head, peering at Merlin with wonder. Then, carefully, pulling herself to her feet. She walked towards Merlin, who stepped towards her. Then she nudged her head into Merlin's hip, nuzzling him, and sinking down to the ground with her wings wrapped around herself.

Merlin stroked her forehead kindly, petting the fur with a soft smile on his face as he sat down with her. "I could do this for you every night." He said warmly, her head was in his lap and she was beginning to understand that he wasn't going to push her away, he wasn't going to harm her.

Things were still broken, still in pieces, but they were starting to come back together.

She never knew how long the transformation went on for, but she could feel it when it started to fade. She couldn't even feel the animal's presence at the back of her mind, it had disappeared completely. She had not hurt anyone, for the first time, and she hadn't been trapped in a cage.

The ragged clothes had been shredded, she knelt on the ground and breathed, adjusting to human senses after using the creature's. Long ago, she had been shy about her nakedness - but that time had come and gone. Merlin went a little pink, handing her his coat again. "Thank you." She said, wrapping herself in the cloth.

When Merlin got up, a stab of fear ripped through her, terrified he was going to leave. She tucked herself against the wall, "I'll be back soon." Merlin promised, Freya wasn't so sure. She only waited.

And when Merlin come back, something that might have been hope sprung into her throat. He carried a bundle of cloth, and the bag over his shoulder looked more full than it had before. She dressed, the clothes were warm and whole. And they were lovely, much nicer than anything she had worn since she had been a little girl, "you're good to me." She said with a faint smile.

"We should get out of Camelot." Merlin started, unpacking heavy cloaks from the pack.

"They're still looking for me." She said softly, "it's not safe for me to go anywhere." And she couldn't run, she was still weak. The whole of Camelot would be looking for her. Now that she had a taste of something like freedom, she could never go back. She didn't even know if they were safe here.

"Is it safe, here?" She asked, the thought nagging at her.

"I'll keep you safe." The words were light, honest, "you look tired. Sleep for a little while, I'll keep watch."

So she did, she sagged against the wall tiredly. She had slept in more uncomfortable positions before. Then Merlin was putting an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in and cradling her against his chest. She sank into him, everything was slowly coming together.

They had three days and two nights together. Three days where the two of them skirted around buildings, scoping out the area, locating safe places. Each night they got closer and closer to the exit. Merlin was trying to locate a tunnel out of Camelot they could take.

On the third day, Merlin kissed her.

They spoke about their dreams, that she dreamed of a lake, mountains topped with snow, a little village where everyone watched out for each other. She wanted to learn everything about Merlin, when he told her that his dreams involved her, she curled in close to him, and asked him to show her some magic.

The grass they were on was soft, bright green and they used Merlin's cloak as a blanket. Merlin's little magic tricks were fantastic, she could watch them for an eternity.

The transformation was approaching, she could feel it, she had grown almost comfortable with it recently. She hadn't been so nervous.

But there were voices in the distance. She wondered if this all might have been her fault, for asking Merlin to show her his magic. Maybe the light of it had attracted them.

Her heart was thick in her chest as they sprung to their feet, Merlin's hand tight around hers.

+=+

The guards were finding him, telling him the creature had been spotted. There wasn't time to put on armour, he stuck with a leather vest he laced as he went outside.

And there it was, in the courtyard, bright glowing eyes, sleek black fur, a large cat with wings. It bared its teeth at him.

He circled it, sword drawn, wishing that he could have been dressed faster, ready faster, so he could have real protection. But this is how it was, it was kill or be killed, so when it went to strike, the tip of Arthur's sword sliced the bottom of its paw. It recoiled, howling, favouring the paw as it took steps backwards.

It pounced again, Arthur was quick enough to thrust his sword forwards, blade sinking into its belly. Claws streaked through his left side, catching his arm and belly.

But it sunk away, wounded, and collapsed onto its side, breathing heavily.

All at once, the creature was fading back into a girl. She might have been his age, maybe younger. So small, so frail, covered in blood. He knelt beside her, ignoring the shouts around him. Her black hair was tossed around her face, her expression pinched.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, her expression turning sad. Her breath still shook, and gently he brushed his fingers over her cheek, pushing her hair away from her face. Kindly. "I see now." He said softly to her. "They were all wrong about you, weren't they?"

Maybe they could get this girl to Gaius, maybe they could save her. This was no creature that turned into a girl to fool them. "I'm sorry." Arthur murmured, "I didn't know."

"It's okay." She rasped, "it's better this way. I won't hurt anyone anymore." She tried a smile, Arthur ached for her. Then, quieter, he caught the words 'thank you' before he was being tossed backwards. His body tumbled across the stone, it hurt, the way his shredded flesh caught the ground. A streak of his blood led from the girl to where he lay. A man was rushing towards the girl.

The sorcerer (no one else had the power to toss him backwards like that) wore a hood, he could not see his face. All he could see of him were his hands, and he didn't know why that was significant. The sight of them caused a strange lurch in his stomach as he watched.

The sorcerer took the girl into his arms, tenderly, like that of a lover, and disappeared into the night. He made no move to stop them, she was a dying girl, nothing could save her now, he could grant her this small mercy. Men started advancing, trying to go after them. Arthur pulled himself to his feet, grasping at his side with his good hand.

"No" he commanded. "Leave her, she's gone."

+=+

Freya grasped Merlin's arm with as much strength as she could, staring at the sky above them, dotted with bright white stars. Everything around her was fading now. They stopped somewhere, he set her down, his cloak around her. "You'll be okay." Merlin said, his voice shook. "I'll heal you."

Funny, almost, how she had once yearned for death. And now, after finding a sliver of happiness, here it was. "No." Her voice was soft, it was a struggle to speak. Her mouth felt thick, her tongue couldn't form the words. "It's better like this." Her hand felt so heavy as she brought it up to Merlin's cheek, cupping his skin and rubbing her thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. "What kind of life could I have?" It was getting difficult to see. "I could never ask you to be with me forever."

She rest her hand over her stomach, her eyes closing for just a moment, before she opened them. "Thank you." A deep breath, keep breathing for long enough to say her goodbye.

She didn't blame the man with the sword, if he hadn't, surely she would have killed him. It would be another life she had taken. She would rather give her own than take another. "Thank you for showing me love."

Merlin was shaking, she could feel it, but there was nothing she could do to help him. He was everything she had ever wanted, someone who was safe, who protected her, who could control her. He was wonderful, there was no one who could compare to Merlin. No one would ever match up to him. Merlin pressed a kiss to her forehead, she curled close to him, and let the darkness take her.

+=+

Blood dripped from his arm, staining his fingers. He was the only one who had managed to get himself injured, and had refused an escort to Gaius' chambers. He sat on the chair, the blunt end of scissors sliding against his skin as he snipped the fabric away.

It took only a minute to clean and bandage the four lines on his stomach and a few more to stitch the ones on his arm. Then Gaius had him hold his hand in the air to get the bleeding to stop as he wrapped cloth tightly around it.

He could see a pile of fabric on the table. He knew what they were in an instant, Merlin's scarves. He wondered about Hunith, then, and that she might not know her son was dead. He frowned, suddenly, as he pulled one of the scarves towards him. The fabric was soft, well worn, he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of her.

He grabbed another, one that was red to counter-match the blue, and held them in his hand.

Arthur needed to go to Ealdor, so he could tell Hunith what had happened. She deserved it, the guilt gnawed at his belly as he calculated how long it had been since Merlin's death. Too long, how could he have forgotten? He'd been too busy mourning his friend than to think of his mother.

With Gaius finished with him, and telling him he had to try to keep his hand above his arm as much as he could, until the bleeding stopped. He spotted a book on the table, and walked towards it slowly. It was thick, loose bits of paper sticking out the sides, so carefully, he examined it, flipping it open.

A magic book - of course. He carefully wrapped the book in the scarves, "I'm taking these."

Gaius's reply was clipped, suspicious. "What do you plan on doing with it, sire?"

"I don't know." He admitted. Gaius watched him, critically, as Arthur folded the bloodstained tunic over his head. "It won't be destroyed, if that's what you're worried about." With that, he was folding the book under his arm and leaving, heading back to his rooms.

He didn't see anyone less in the halls until he had nearly ran into someone, he couldn't see the man's face, but he recognized him. The sorcerer from before, he could only see the curve of his chin, the shape of his lower lip, he carried a bundle of fabric in his arms.

Arthur froze, staring into the darkness of the hood he wore, he wanted to rip the hood from his head because he had to know who this was, and why he was here. And what he was doing with, what looked like, one of Morgana's dresses. Then he realized - for the girl.

So he didn't stop the stranger, who stepped around Arthur without a word.

He hurried down the hall, shaken.

He locked the doors to his chambers, a fire lit high in the grate already, and sat by the window. He kept thinking about that girl, and the way she had spoken to him. The way she had thanked him, and wondered what her story was. The men who were looking for her said she had changed into the girl to trick men, but Arthur couldn't quite believe it. She didn't have the kind of face, she didn't look like she would be capable of hurting anyone. Not by choice anyway.

So he went through the magic book, scanning every page, trying not to think about the hooded stranger.

The words were unpronounceable, unreadable, he couldn't even begin to attempt them, but there were descriptions everywhere, as though this book had not been printed by one man, but rather, multiple men who shared their knowledge. He recognized Merlin's writing, within there, and was grateful to see that very few spells were for mass destruction. Harmless things, really, how to make fire and other rather useful things.

He didn't sleep much that night.

He went to Morgana first, as soon as he woke up in the morning, asking her if she still kept Merlin’s remains. The fragments of bone and ash that were left behind. She wasn’t willing to part with them, at first, suspicious of what he was planning. He told her he was going to deliver it to his mother, because she deserved that. She softened, instantly, and allowed it. She gave him the small container, richly decorated, and he took it. 

He left Sir Leon behind as regent, to rule Camelot while he was gone, and took Percival with him. It was just a two man journey, Morgana wanted to come but he insisted that she stay behind, that she was needed here, that the people looked up to her. That they needed her.

So it was just the two of them, dressed in red and leathers instead of the heavy armour. 

They met Cenred’s guards at the border, Arthur politely dismounted and retrieved the container of ash. “I come only to deliver what it left of a friend to his mother.” He said, his voice solemn. 

“You bring swords.” The guard said, nodding at the sword slid into its place in the saddle. 

“Only to protect myself against bandits, or other creatures that may harm me. I am here only to bring a message to his mother.” 

The men softened a little bit, and let them through. 

They arrived at Ealdor in the afternoon, Arthur left his horse tied to a fence and gathered up the container and the scarf, the blue one, folded so neatly under it. He had left the red one at home, to keep for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

Hunith was outside, hanging bits of fabric on a line. She was humming something soft and sweet, clipping the fabric above her head. When she noticed him, she broke out in a smile and gave him a slow bow. “King Arthur, it’s a pleasure to see you.” 

Arthur said nothing, only walking towards her slowly. 

She had been about to ask about Merlin, he knew that, but he held his scarf and the jar and he saw the moment she realized it. He saw the moment her heart broke, and carefully set the jar on a bench. 

She stood strong, her hands clenched tight, her grief silent at first, as if she couldn’t believe if it were true. He stepped towards her, as her hands fell onto his shoulders, his hands grasping her elbows gently as her body shook. And after a moment, he directed her head to his shoulder, securing an arm around her comfortably and just held her.  
   
Something in him cracked, a little bit, as the sound of her sobs reached his ears, muffled by his clothes. He had never let himself grieve, not really, he had let everything happen. Percival had stayed away, and he would thank him for that later. Hunith’s hands clutched his sides desperately, he bent his head to her shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry” He whispered, his voice cracking. Tears slipped down his face, for the first time, for Merlin. 

They stayed like that for a long time, as Hunith’s body kept trembling but her sobs faded into shaky gasps, then to deep breathing, as though she were trying to control herself. The poor woman was alone, now, he had never met any kind of husband or lover. He didn’t want her to be alone. 

Eventually, he was slowly leading her back to her home, carefully, with Arthur’s arm around her for support, she gathered up the blue scarf and the jar and led the way inside. Arthur controlled his face, carefully, and led her to sit down at the table, smoothing her hair because he knew that it always made him feel better.  
   
Percival followed in shortly after, as Arthur held one of her hands between both of his over the table. She traced the patterns on the jar as Percival moved through the kitchen to make them something warm to drink. 

As tea was set between them, Arthur slowly explained the story, that he had told Merlin to take a horse and run, that they had spent as long as they could getting back so Merlin could have enough time to get away properly. That they said they were going to cover a large section of woods so that Merlin had time to leave.   
The evening was spent in mostly silence, before Hunith started talking about Merlin while he was growing up - trying to replace the hurt inside her with fond memories of her son instead.  

They gave her their pack of supplies, taking out only as much as they would need for the trip back to Camelot the next day. Arthur had slipped a little coin purse, with a bit of gold in it, because she was too good a woman to suffer like this. If he gave her just a little, she could take a few days to grieve without worrying about falling behind so much.

They spent the night there, lying on the floor with a few blankets between them. Arthur felt washed out and weary, lying on his side with his back to Percival, staring into the darkness of the room. 

Percival lay an arm across him, and Arthur let out a breath and hesitated for just a moment, before he gave himself permission to move back against him. It wasn’t intimate, the embrace, it was Percival knowing how it felt to lose someone close. He had grown up all his life with his sister, only to lose her a month before her wedding day. He knew that Arthur would never ask for any kind of comfort from anyone. So he just held Arthur, quietly, letting him tremble and hold his breath to keep his hurt silent. This was grieving, finally, letting the hurt from losing someone come through and letting it heal after it finished aching. He thought he could hear a few gaspy breaths from Hunith, but did nothing about it because he couldn’t help her now, not when he was so wrecked himself. Percival just held him, never judging, never asking, just holding him and letting him shake and break apart.

In the morning, the watery sunlight of the pale morning hurt his eyes. Percival’s arm was still over him, and he had turned to him sometime in the night. Percival was warm, welcoming, protecting Arthur from the damage the world could do. He allowed himself a few more moments to be tucked against someone who cared, before he rolled to his back so he could get up. He would never have that kind of comfort again, it wasn’t how Arthur worked. It wasn’t what he did, ever, so he got up slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. Hunith was sitting at the table, around the corner, her eyes wet and sad. He sat with her, and clasped her hand. 

“Would you come to Camelot with us?” He asked, softly. “There’s more than enough room for you, you would be my honoured guest. Anything you wanted could be yours.”

In the end, she refused, but he told her there would always be a room for her, if she wanted to. 

They left later, he kissed Hunith’s knuckles and apologized once more before he left, returning to Camelot. He didn’t feel any better, he didn’t feel like he had done something he should have done. Maybe he should have let her believe Merlin was still alive, then he wouldn’t have to hurt her like this. And it felt like his fault - like her tears were because of him. And they were, he was the messenger, he hadn’t done enough to keep him alive. He didn't know that Merlin had witnessed the visit, and had given Hunith peace of mind, knowing her son was still alive.

They didn’t speak the entire trip back to Camelot, keeping their heads down and simply making their way home. The guards at the border simply waved them through, not bothering to stop them and ask questions. They were probably just relieved that the King of Camelot was leaving. 

Back in Camelot, everything felt stale. Nothing of interest had happened while he had been gone, Morgana still didn’t talk to him but she looked at him, now, when she hadn’t before. But what did he care if she was still cross with him? 

He hid in his room, sitting on the windowsill and watching the pale sky above him. It was still there, still bringing him those tiny ounces of comfort, and that would heal him soon enough, if he just sat there and soaked up the tiny rays of sunlight that came through the clouds. 

He held the red cloth in his lap, not nearly as bright as any of the other red things he owned, but the most important one. “I’m sorry. Merlin” He murmured to the cloth, as if it would hear him, and tell him it was okay. 

He wouldn't go so far to carry the scarf around with him, but he kept it in his rooms, as a memory, tied around one of the bedposts. After being so blank for the last few months, finally opinion those old wounds left him feeling raw.

Arthur spent most of his time in his room, lost and peering at the sky from his window. Eyes glazed over, the sky changing all around him. He tracked the pattern of the clouds, watch them drift across the sky.

It was getting later, his forehead against the cool glass, oh so tired and he couldn't think, he couldn't sleep. All his time was spent locked in here.

He didn't hear anyone come in, only a soft voice, calling his name. He straightened, slowly, turning to see who had snuck in.

It was fear that slammed into him first, eyes widening, as he stared at the man in front of him.

Merlin.

Merlin, who was dead. The man he had watched die, he had seen his body burn. His heart stopped, for a second, as he slid from the window and backed into the wall. "You're not real." He hissed, sliding around the room, keeping Merlin in the middle of it, to the door.

Merlin was so pale, he was hallucinating Merlin now, why? Because of magic? It hadn't been a problem, recently, he hadn't remembered when someone had been caught using it. Well, after Morgause anyways - but he hadn't done anything about that.

He ducked his head out the door, shouting for someone, anyone, to get here now.

When he turned to the rest of the room, Merlin was gone. Two guards rushed into his room, looking around, Arthur had sounded so panicked. "There's no one here." One of them said, eyeing Arthur, who was pale and shaking, his skin far too hot.

"R-right" Arthur said shortly. "I must have been mistaken, go on then." The guards eyed each other, before bowing as they left the room. Arthur's heart hammered in his chest as he bolted the door, sagging down to the floor and trying to breathe.

Merlin was dead, he was hallucinating, daydreaming, he missed Merlin and the fact that he was seeing him now was just because of that.

He paced, he tended to the fire, he tried to scrub out a stain on the table, he tore the curtains from the windows and bent the metal hangings into sharp ends. Early that morning, he was told there were two people here to see him.

The lines under Arthur's eyes were noticeable, his eyes rimmed with red, head fuzzy, and he sat on the stupid chair as the two men held a girl, no older than fifteen, by her elbows.

"She's a sorcerer." One of them said, the dirtier of the two, mud streaked across his face. "We saw her."

"And what did she do?" Arthur asked, tiredly, he just wanted to sleep.

"She was watering the pig." The other said, he was a scrawny looking guy with a weird face. "She was filling the bucket with her hands."

Arthur just stared, looking at the girl's face, her eyes wide with fear. He remembered Merlin's expression, tear streaks down his cheeks with the gold still fading from his eyes. "Do you have proof?"

"What?" Dirty asked, raising his voice. "She's a sorcerer, our claims is more than enough proof!" He was angry, Arthur could tell, he nearly laughed. He didn't have time for this.

"We saw 'er do it." The girl's eyes were watering, tears dripping down to her chin. He thought of Merlin again, this girl thought she was going to die today. He thought of Merlin, in his room last night, blinked and sat up straight.

"I didn't" He said, more outrage, so he shouted "I didn't see her use any magic! Get out of my sight and let go of her before I break your fingers!"

The girl fell to her knees, shocked, as the men surrounding her left quickly, tails between their legs. He stood, slowly, walked over to her and offered her his hand. She was just a child, her eyes were the same shade of blue as Merlin's, and as he helped her up, he said "go" in a soft voice,giving her permission to leave.

After a moment, he followed her outside. Ignoring the heavy gazes of the people in the room.

Out in the bright sunlight, he felt a bit better. A bit more awake.

In the distance, he thought he saw Merlin again, the swish of his cloak, and a twinge of fear filled him.

His heart hammered again, he breathed, he hadn't killed anyone today, she had done no wrong. Merlin had no reason to haunt him today, Arthur hadn't done anything wrong. He had let her go. If he was haunting him, wouldn't he only do it if Arthur made mistakes? If he had done the wrong thing?

The days went by, and Arthur kept seeing him. Just a glimpse, here and there, the dark tattered cloak, pale skin, those blue blue eyes.

Morgana began to give him pitying looks, but had begun speaking to him again. Obviously, he had done something to please her. It was one small welcoming touch in the darkness his world had become. She was his friend again.

He became snappy, particularly at servants. Then at the knights, a flash of a boy with dark hair, in the distance, rattled him and he pulled Leon away, telling him that he was in charge of training the knights, Arthur didn't want to do it anymore. He couldn't do it anymore. As a King, he had too many things to do.

Leon didn't believe it for a second, but he said nothing, he accepted his lie as truth. The world around him was crumbling, falling to pieces, and there was nothing he could do. If he wasn't dealing with things he had to, as King, he was locked in his room. He stared at the rest of Camelot instead of the sky, trying to determine if Merlin was real.

No one else had seen him. Merlin had died, they all knew that. They gave him strange looks if he mentioned it. Gaius was concerned about him, sent him sleeping tonics that Arthur refused to take.

More and more magic users were brought in, dragged in front of him, even claimed that they were using magic, just to test Arthur. But none of them had harmed anyone else, none of them had done anything negative, so Arthur just told them to leave.

Morgana came up to him one evening, carefully kneeling before the grate to tend to the fire, stalling, before she got up and sat across the table from him, taking his hands and telling him that she had magic.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had taught his knights to never surrender, to die fighting because it was the noble way to go. There was shame in surrender and glory in death. And all around him, the knights saw their King surrender, and fell with him. They dropped their swords, the fighting stopped. 
> 
> Camelot fell, no one died, and King Arthur was finished.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and Arthur kept seeing Merlin everywhere. His hallucinations hadn't stopped, but he had not told Gaius about it, he had not spoken to him.  

He was in the streets one afternoon, trying to settle his blood, trying to see if Merlin was truly all in his mind or not. What was he doing wrong, he wondered, to have his image haunt him like this? 

He watched a man murder a young woman with magic. It was a pure accident that he had seen it, he had only ducked into the alley to _breathe_ when he saw her fall, saw the man's amber eyes, and shouted for the guards. 

Murder, in cold blood, of an innocent, was punishable by death. Not when it was unfair like that, when the victim had done no wrong. He stood on the balcony, the next day, the same place he had stood for Merlin's death, as the man was drug out, kicking and screaming. "I'm innocent!" He called. "I swear it, I'm innocent, I didn't do anything! I'm not a sorcerer, I'm innocent!" This time, the man's death would be just, it would be a fair punishment for his crimes.  

Arthur ignored him, he was only lying to try to save his own skin. But his life did not give back the young woman's. "This man has committed murder, of an innocent woman. And for his crime, he will be punished." He called into the crowd, and somewhere within it, Merlin's face stared up at him. He made no mention of magic, magic didn't matter in this case. 

Camelot was crumbling, he thought vaguely, as he gave the signal to light the pyre. 

The flames went out as quickly as they started. No one could see Merlin but him, as he stood there in the crowd. If this ghost was haunting him because he wasn't good enough - he didn't know how to do good. He hadn't sent sorcerers to their deaths, only this one, who had truly earned it. 

He felt as though he was going to collapse, watching Merlin's face as the crowd went eerily silent. 

"You still murder sorcerers!" The ghost who wore Merlin's face called, his eyes fierce. 

"I witnessed this man murder someone innocent, who had no business dying." 

"So you burn him?" Merlin called back, the crowd parting around him. His ghost was becoming an actual being. 

"You're not real." His voice shook. "He is lying, he's not innocent." 

"So you burn him?" The hallucination called back. "It's the most painful way to die. I would know." Something heavy struck him, like a blow to the teeth. The methods of execution were different according to the crime. The people who set up the pyre were only doing their jobs, he hadn't even thought about it. 

His hands were covered in blood, he knew that, he had murdered his father and an innocent girl, he may as well have murdered Merlin too, for all the good he had done. 

"Stop this, at once." Leon called, "do not interfere." Leon's eyes were wide, he stood strong next to his battered king as Arthur nearly shook himself apart. But Leon could see him too, it seemed. "Take him away." Leon instructed, while Arthur just _stood there_ and watched. 

The guards went to grab Merlin, the crowd spreading thin. Some took off, eager to get out of there before anything bad happened. Still under his father's old ways where magic was a crime. The hallucination needed to stop, it needed to end, he had to be the one to end it. 

Whatever this demon was, that took the face of Merlin, it knew nothing. It didn't know the people who were dropped before him, their lives on his back, while he turned his head away and dismissed them. The hallucination didn't know how many of Arthur's own laws he had broken over these last few months. 

"Your people live in fear." Merlin was saying, "most of us cannot choose magic, it chooses us, and yet you burn them for their gifts." 

Arthur disappeared inside of Camelot, reemerging outside of it, into the courtyard, where he pointed his sword at Merlin threateningly. "Stop talking." He growled, the real Merlin was dead and this thing wasn't real. He had cared about Merlin, the real Merlin, and this wasn't him. His Merlin was kind, would have stood at his side, defending him. "Stand down." 

He didn't mention the laws he had broken, and it was almost funny that he was more worried about the knowledge of his own laws coming to an end than the fact that he was pointing a sword at another man (no, a hallucination) in the middle of a crowd. "Stand down!" He repeated, raising his voice, but Merlin didn't back down. 

"How many sorcerers have you murdered these last months? Ten? Twenty?" 

As far as Arthur had known, there had been none until today, he couldn't even recall anyone. But how many people had he turned his back on when it came to their petty acts of magic? He hadn't harmed them, he knew they were still alive. When had this happened? He felt sick to his stomach, he had no issued anyone's death. 

But who had? 

His head hurt. The beast that wore Merlin's face wouldn't haunt him. 

"And Freya" Merlin's voice seemed to crack, his determined composure slipping. "You killed her. She was innocent, she didn't deserve it. You are corrupt, Arthur Pendragon." 

Freya, he thought, that was her name. The girl who turned into a beast, who had thanked him for ending her life. He expected the impostor to raise his hand now, shoot magic at him, throw him across the stone again. The Merlin he had known, cared for, would never do this. He rushed forwards, expecting the pain of magic to hit him.

It didn't, instead, the blood poured hot down his wrists. "You can drop the act." He hissed, this wasn't Merlin. This couldn't be Merlin. His Merlin was dead. He felt like he was being torn inside out, and he knelt beside the bleeding body. 

"No act, Arthur." Merlin said, his voice rasping. "You're the problem." 

Arthur straightened, letting go of the sword, Merlin's blood on his hands and his mind dangerously tipping close to darkness. "This man interfered with the execution of a murderer. As of late, I have been turning a blind eye to magic. If anyone has died, it is not by my hand, and their lives were taken without my permission or knowledge." He swayed, nearly falling to one side. "Sorcerers! Assemble here, tomorrow, from here on out you will be valued with the colours of the knights of Camelot." 

He barely made it to Gaius' chambers before collapsing. 

After Gaius assured that there was nothing seriously wrong with him, only bone-deep exhaustion, settling him into his room and forcing a powerful sleeping draught down his throat. 

The sorcerers waited for him, the ones he had turned a blind eye to, in the courtyard. He had slept for two nights and a day, and finally left to see them. They bowed to him, that girl was the first of the group, looking at him with so much determination. 

Morgana was with him, the sorcerers were fitted with their own armour (yes, they might be sorcerers but they weren't always going to be so prepared, they needed to be protected), they were added to the knights. The group was small, and they were weak, but they were here, pledging themselves to Arthur. 

He found the council members who had been executing sorcerers without his knowledge, his father's men, and sent them out of Camelot. 

Morgause, who had been in and out of Camelot, returned to instruct them on combat magic. The two groups, knights and sorcerers, worked together. It was rather beautiful, actually, the way Leon would take the sorcerers (more and more kept appearing, but there were still so few) and train them on how to fight, while Morgana and Morgause would teach the knights how to fight against magic. 

And all around him, the people of Camelot were calling for his corruption. Calling for a change, for a man who didn't burn sorcerers then train them. Who didn't kill innocent people. 

Camelot was falling apart around him, he could tell. Other kings and nobles were offering Arthur their daughters, well aware of the crumbling of his empire and hoping to gain control. He only laughed, shredded the letters. 

And soon, he began to expect an army. Any day now, it would arrive. It seemed like half of Camelot had left, gone to live somewhere else. Once they had prospered, now the streets were half empty. He waited for it. 

He didn't see the ghost anymore, satisfied that it had died and wouldn't be back, but he still stopped sleeping. When he slept he saw the faces of people his father had burned, the people who had hung, the people who had lost their heads. He saw Merlin, burning, and he woke up to that strange smell of his hair in a cold sweat. 

So he didn't sleep anymore, he only watched. 

It felt a little bit like dying, actually, as he waited Camelot fall, giving way to the battering storm outside. His knights were loyal, his (or rather, Morgana's) sorcerers were loyal, but the rest weren't. 

Arthur stayed in his room, waiting, pacing, his father had told him to never surrender, and he wouldn't. Not on his life, would he surrender. 

Months went by, Camelot hung on by a single thread, until the evening Morgana slipped into his room, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the bed. Sadly, she smiled at him, pushing him down and draping the blankets over him. "You're tired." She said softly, her eyes looked wet. He was so, so tired. "You're going to need your sleep tonight." 

She was pushing the vial to his lips, he drank it and felt her kiss her forehead, saw real tears in her eyes, and fell asleep before she had left. 

When he woke up the air was filled with static, a storm was brewing right above them and today was it. Today Camelot's fate came. He remembered Morgana's tears, and tried not to think of what they could have meant. 

So he prepared the knights, the sorcerers, dressed in armour like it was a ritual. The candlelight glinted off the armour, the red of his cape was too bright in the room, the servant placed the sword in his hands. Arthur would fight until his last breath. 

The air is cold as the army advances. The army is made up of common people, low ranking nobles, old and young. They are not armed to the teeth with steel and weapons, they walk slowly and men fall as they do. They worked cleanly, it's brutal to watch. 

Arthur waited for the leader, flanked by Percival and Leon, and waited for the leader to approach him. 

Above, the skies cackle, sparks of electricity up high in the clouds. They're rolling with thunder, fuelled by magic. Lights flash all around, and as the battle approaches, the flags of Camelot begin to burn. Black smoke streaks the sky, lighting flashes, colourful bursts of light with muted explosions echo all around him. The wind blows to the side, moving his hair and fanning the cape. He can't be sure if he looks dangerous - or if he just looks ragged. 

And the leader walks towards him. He walks alone, his hood pulled over his face. Arthur feels nothing this time. 

The edges of his cloak are in good repair now, like he had mended it for this. The metal clangs, voices ring out, bursts of light all around them bring the line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the curl of his lip, into focus for just a moment. It's so dark even though it's barely afternoon.

The wind changed direction, catching on his legs before fanning the other way, then in front of him. He stepped forwards, still carrying his sword, a low boom of thunder shuddering through the air. They don't fight, not yet, they only stand face to face in the storm. 

Another gust of wind from behind, bringing with it the smell of smoke and ash from the burning flags. Arthur's hair was in his face and the man's hood fell down. Somehow, he had known this all along. 

Merlin looked the same as he always had the last time he had seen him. Arthur watched for a long moment. "You've been haunting me." He managed, his voice nearly lost to the wind. He knew, then, that all of this had been real. His delusions were truth, not the lies he had been telling himself. Merlin was the man that didn't die. 

He stepped towards him, this was real this time. As he stared at him, he could see his skin blacken and burn, see his head tip backwards, see the life leave his body (twice) and let the sword fall from his hand. 

He pulled off his glove, letting it fall next to the sword, and reached out to him. He brought his hand into the air between them, to the man who had once been his friend, and cupped his cheek. Merlin flinched at the touch, as though he were disgusted by it.  

Time had changed Merlin, his skin was soft but not smooth. Time had aged him, and Arthur was sure his own skin was just as marred, scratched and scarred and healed as Merlin's was. There were lines around Merlin's eyes, now. But despite his disgust at Arthurs' touch, he hadn't pulled away, he stood there, meeting his gaze with the kind of strength Arthur didn't have anymore. 

Merlin had lost the remaining traces of youth, and Arthur had missed it. This skinny kid had filled out, his teenager's face had transformed into that of a man. And here he was, having shed the childish skin he used to wear, and Arthur had missed it. 

He pressed his thumb into the line of his cheekbone, his fingertips in Merlin's hair, studying his face, the flat of Merlin's cheek fitted into his palm. This was Merlin, through and through. It had always been him. And as he stood with his hand on Merlin's face, lightning crashing through the clouds around them now, he realized he couldn't do this anymore.

Too much had happened. Arthur had murdered his own father, he had sent his father's wife to death, he had killed an innocent girl named Freya, he had stood by while hundreds of sorcerers had burned. He was only alive because he had stolen his mother's, he was born to take lives and give nothing in return. 

The fight in him was gone, it had left him, and he knew that no one had died today. He couldn't be sure how he knew, but he did. Something in Merlin's eyes, as he regarded Arthur with something akin to disgust, told him that. 

Arthur was done. It was gone, and he had known that for a long time now. He never thought it would happen like this, he had always had so much confidence in himself. He had fancied himself unbreakable - but here he was now, the Broken King of Camelot, barely strong enough to keep his head above water anymore. 

The breath he let out shook, trembled, he bowed his head because he couldn't look at him anymore. Those blue blue eyes were piercing. 

Arthur sank to his knees before him, bowing his head in surrender. He had taught his knights to never surrender, to die fighting because it was the noble way to go. There was shame in surrender and glory in death. And all around him, the knights saw their King surrender, and fell with him. They dropped their swords, the fighting stopped. 

Camelot fell, no one died, and King Arthur was finished. 

His own knights, guards still wearing his colours, grasped him by the arms, pulling him to his feet. Arthur worked a ring off of his finger, the King's seal, the mark that proved who owned Camelot, who ruled her. It landed on the ground between them as Arthur let them drag him away. 

They brought him to the armoury, and stood by the doorway as Arthur slowly, and carefully, undid his own armour. The red cape draped over the table, each piece of metal untied, like a ritual, and placed across the wood. When he had removed the armour completely, he hung it, delicately, then he pulled on the red jacket, adjusting the collar, fiddling with the sleeves, before turning to the guards again. 

Only one of them grabbed his arm, leading him down to the dungeons. He didn't resist, he only walked, and stood in the centre of the gloomy room long after they had left. Outside, the rain poured. The sky would mourn Camelot's fall, not Arthur's, the rain dripped down well worn paths down the walls from a small hole at the top that let in the weak light. He walked to it, touched the cold water and closed his eyes for just a moment, before he walked towards the bench and sat down. 

He sat like a King, though he no longer was one, with his back straight and his head held high, hands folded nearly in his lap. He didn't move, he only sat, he didn't think, he didn't sleep, he simply existed. After all these months, this almost felt like peace. 

Hours later, the girl who had been brought to him, the one with Merlin's eyes, came with a tray of food. "Eat" She said, softly, she didn't need a key to open the door, and set the tray on the bench. 

Arthur said nothing. Did nothing, sitting as still as the stones around him. He could feel her watch him for a long time, before she finally left. 

And later, someone came by to light the torches. 

He wondered if Merlin would have him burned, or hanged, for all of this. Perhaps Merlin would have a small amount of mercy on him and banish him from Camelot, so Arthur could cut his hair and blend into the crowd, unnoticed, just another face among many. 

He ate a little bit in the morning, after the long night, to east the pain in his stomach. Then he just waited for judgement. 

It wasn't a surprise that Merlin came down here to speak to him, any other king would have the guards drag Arthur to them. Then he realized just how complicated all of this was, these kingly businesses. Such as the issue of legalizing magic. Many treaties were forged upon the agreement that magic was punishable by death, which meant Merlin would need to struggle through those. Avoid a war, and find an agreement. 

It almost made him sad to know that he might not be around to watch Merlin let Camelot crumble a second time. 

"Arthur." Merlin said, standing at the bars. He wanted to watch Merlin fail, watch him flounder and gasp for breath as he drowned in a cruel and unforgiving world. Kings were all corrupt, they were all cruel, they were all selfish. Merlin knew none of this, yet, Merlin had yet to see true corruption. 

But, maybe Arthur was corrupted. 

"I need your help." Merlin said. Arthur could read between the lines, Merlin didn't know the first thing about running a kingdom. He could see the tremble in his hands. Something was happening. "I need you." 

Arthur let out a short bark of laughter at that, Merlin didn't need him, he kept staring straight at the wall. Even if there was nothing else left of him, his stubbornness remained. 

"I'll take death, thank you." He said, his tone smooth and unafraid, though his voice crackled as though he'd been screaming this whole time. 

"I can't do this without you." Merlin said, trying to keep his voice soft. Gods, Merlin had changed so much. Where was the clumsy servant he had once known? "Arthur, I don't want to keep you down here. Please, come with me, we can figure something out." 

Arthur remained silent, still as stone again, staring at the wall. Merlin left, tired of him, and why would Arthur help the man who had overthrown him? Even if Arthur had surrendered, out of desperation and things that couldn't be repaired, it didn't mean he wanted to watch Merlin succeed. 

The girl came to visit again that evening, she didn't say a word to him at first, only setting the tray beside him and sitting on his other side. He ate, this time, listening to the sound of her breathing. And when he had finished, she placed her smaller hand over his and said "You'll always be my King." Before leaving. 

Maybe not all was lost, he gave her a faint smile, a nod, a murmured thanks, and watched her leave. And it was only a few hours after she left, going into his second night without sleep, that he heard it. Whispers, voices, bodies thumping to the floor. 

By the time they got to Arthur's cell, he was standing in the middle of it. If he died here, he died a hero. He died as a man who did not run from death, who had been placed underground then murdered. There were three of them, here to kill him, they stood at his cell for just a moment, and Arthur spread his arms. "What are you waiting for?" He asked, voice soft and calm, welcoming death. 

Let them repair his name by killing him, then he would go down with honour. 

They were about to do it, too, just about to unlock the cell doors when someone else appeared. Merlin. Of course it was Merlin, whose presence made the three of them shrink back. He let his arms fall to his sides, turning towards Merlin. He eyes narrowed, couldn't Merlin just.. let it happen? Let his end come? It would have been so wonderful, the perfect way to die that would revive his soiled name. 

Merlin tried to speak, instead Arthur moved to the metal bars and placed his hands around them. "You're a fool." He bit out. "Get away from me, King or not, you will _never_ have my loyalty. You _will_ fall." 

With that, Arthur turned, sitting back down on the uncomfortable bench, the place he had sat for so long now, and glared at the wall in front of him. He hadn't meant to snap, not really, but he was so tired. 

Merlin left, Arthur breathed again, sagged against the wall behind him and let sleep take over him for a few short hours. 

The cold had settled into his bones now, his skin nearly ice because he couldn't hold in any heat anymore. Dim sunlight drifted in through the tiny window, near the roof. Then the guards were appearing, unlocking the cell doors, and grabbing his arms. Arthur didn't fight, and he wouldn't anymore. He didn't have the strength to anyways. They brought him into the open area, where the guards would sit and play their cards to pass the time. 

They forcefully removed his tunic, tying his hands in front of him with it, keeping him on his knees and bending him over. The first snap of the whip that cracked over his back didn't break the skin. He could have laughed, as the second blow struck, because Merlin had a cruel streak now. Arthur had long ago changed how floggings worked, and it had been a long time since it had happened, though it was referenced, the worst kind of punishment to keep everyone in line. An empty threat. 

Merlin didn't know that. 

The fifth one broke the skin, blood ran wet and almost cold compared to his swollen skin. He made no noise, other than a shaky string of laughter, accepting each blow as though he welcomed it. 

His back was a bloody mess by the end of it, he had lost track of how many there had even been. Then he was being dragged somewhere, he couldn't be sure where, his legs were weak, the pain getting worse and worse the longer he was awake. 

He recognized the smell of the room instantly, warm and full of herbs and salves and the soft sound of something bubbling somewhere. His vision had darkened around the edges, but here everything seemed to clear a little. Enough for him to peer up at Gaius, to try to tell him how happy he was to see him with just his eyes. 

When he woke up his back felt hot, he could feel each strip of broken skin that had been bandaged. Gaius was there, settling him back down onto the bed (a thousand times comfier than anything in the dungeons) and giving him something to drink. "Sleep, you need it." He said, softly. 

He woke up again sometime after midnight, and it wasn't Gaius who was there with him, but Morgana, who was petting his hair. She let out a shaky breath of relief, smiling at him as he carefully sat up. None of the pain was gone, but his tiredness was. He was awake, properly, for the first time in what seemed like a very long time. It hurt to move. 

"You're okay." She said, letting out a breath of relief, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She was careful not to brush against his wounds and he pulled her in tightly. It felt good to be close to her, like there was some part of him still connected to his old life. 

She pulled away, he held her arms for a moment longer before dropping them. "I suppose." He replied, gently, as if he wasn't so sure where Morgana stood in all of this. Had Arthur truly done so wrong? 

"Merlin's scared." She said sadly. "The council members are fighting him, he has no idea what he's getting into..." She let out a breath. "I'll go get Gaius." 

She stood, sweeping into Merlin's old rooms, and after a few minutes, the old man was coming down the stairs. It was a relief to see him, a small smile formed before he moved, just slightly, and the wounds pulled and it hurt again. 

Morgana left with a good-bye, ruffling his hair kindly. He used to hate the action, it had always made him feel like a child. Now the gesture was welcomed, it was something small that he would cherish. 

Gaius checked him over first, changing the bandages and tending to the wounds, recovering them, then moving to get him something to eat. Arthur noticed, as Gaius cooked, that the blood-stained cloths hadn't been tidied up, normally Gaius was good about that. There was blood on the sheets, too, dried and probably stained. 

Gaus handed him a bowl, and he took it gratefully. It was lovely, a bit bland but absolutely perfect. He hummed his thanks, as he sat down on one of the chairs. "I remember when you were a child." He started, softly. "You asked for your mother all the time, and when you were old enough to understand she'd died, you asked your father to tell you stories of her." He sipped from the bowl, thoughtfully. "You asked over and over, but Uther never told you anything about her. Eventually, one day, you stopped asking." 

He remembered that, always wanting to know more about his mother but not being able to ask. 

"Merlin did the same." Gaius continued, Arthur stared down into the bowl and said nothing. "He asked Hunith about his father, but she refused to tell him anything. I don't think the two of you realize just how much you have in common." 

Arthur just sat there, not so sure if he was hungry anymore. 

"Do you remember how it felt to be lost?" He asked, and Arthur felt as though he were lost now. "Back before you met him, you never knew how to deal with difficult situations." He didn't have the strength to tell Gaius to stop talking. "I'd never seen you so confident, after you met him. You were a good man when you were with him. You needed him then, and he needs you now." 

Gaius stood, fetching Arthur's shirt and setting it beside Arthur. "I watched him bend over backwards for you, Arthur, he is not your enemy. He may have dressed himself up as one but he is still the same boy we used to know." 

Arthur had nothing to say, finishing the stew (or whatever it was, he couldn't care, it was lovely) and setting the bowl to the side. 

"Sleep" Gaius said. "It'll do you some good. Enjoy the bed." 

So Arthur tried, and after a long time, he did. The guards came in the morning, grabbing him and bringing him back to the dungeons. They pushed him to the floor, swinging the door shut behind them, and Arthur wondered what had changed so much that they had turned on him so quickly. 

+=+

Gaius was carefully rinsing one of the bloodied cloths in a bowl of warm water when Merlin entered. "My lord." Gaius said, giving him a small bow. He remembered when Merlin had angsted over having to hide his magic, and now here he was, king of Camelot. He was proud of him, in some ways, less proud of him in others. 

He was grateful that Merlin was alive (twice), and that Merlin had woken up while Gaius had been there, after determining that Merlin was well and truly dead. He would always care abbot Merlin, but perhaps he could have gone about this differently. He had watched Arthur's decline, and he could see that Merlin wasn't the boy he had known, but somewhere, he still was. Hidden away now.

"The dungeons are very damp right now, sire." He said casually, the water in the bowl swirling bright red as he rinsed the cloth. He had left the mess Arthur's blood had left, to prove a point. "And if you remember anything that I taught you, is that it isn't a suitable place for someone with open wounds." 

Merlin would get where he was going with this. But, respectfully, Merlin listened. So Gaius kept speaking. "Arthur never sent those who were flogged to the dungeons." He said, softly. "It was Uther's direction for a long time, until Arthur changed it. There's a section just beyond here, easy to secure, where anyone who's been flogged can recover. Mortality rates dropped off, unless, of course, it was your intention to use flogging as a means of execution." A ripple went through the new king at that. 

Merlin had always respected him, Gaius had cared for him like a son, he tipped the bloody water into the grate and gathered more from the pot, the first rag was almost clean. He couldn't watch this, knowing Arthur was in the dungeons when he didn't belong there felt wrong. Knowing Merlin was ruling Camelot with cruelty in his veins, after all he had been through, was just as wrong. Merlin needed to make amends to Arthur, and Arthur needed to join with Merlin. 

"How are you, Merlin? If it is alright I call you that." He said, then, to give Merlin space to think. "It's been a long time since we have spoken." 

"Fine." Merlin said, his voice a little strained. 

"He was lost without you, you know." He continued, setting the cloth to dry as he grabbed another. Red swirled in the water. "After Uther sentenced you, he began to fall apart. Forgive me for being so bold, but it won't matter how much you need him if he's dying in the dungeons, he will be of no use to you." 

He hadn't meant for his words to become blunt, but Arthur had already been down there for two hours, more than enough time for the wounds to begin to fester. He didn't like speaking of Arthur as though he were a tool to be used, but he was hoping to find the old Merlin in there, somewhere, the one who would do whatever it took to save his friends. 

"Now, off with you. I'm sure you're too busy to speak to an old man like me, I have errands to run." But, all in all, he was pleased with himself. And as Merlin was leaving, he called his name. "The two of you were in balance, two sides of the same coin, you will always fail if you think you can do it alone." 

The Merlin he had loved would never give the order to hurt someone he cared about, let alone Arthur, who he would have laid his life down for again and again if it meant he could breathe another day. He missed that boy, and hoped that Arthur would be able to draw it back out of him. That was, if Arthur didn't die in the dungeons first. 

But, later, he was informed by Morgana that Arthur had been moved back to his chambers. 

+=+

Arthur was in his old room later, just waking up after having been moved in here in some kind of strange half-awake daze. His head felt too warm, and he opened his eyes to meet blue ones and jumped. She did too, then she started laughing. "Sorry." She said, grinning, the first one, the girl who had started Arthur's not-killing-sorcerers movement. "I came to see how you're doing. How are you feeling?" 

Arthur just shrugged, his body felt hot as she put her cool hand on his forehead. "I think you have the beginnings of an infection." She said, "I'm also not supposed to be here, I think, there are guards outside your door. I kind of, erm, put them to sleep." 

Arthur almost laughed, "did Gaius send you?" 

"No, you only just got here, I saw them move you. You looked ill." 

"You should talk to him," he said, lying back against the mattress. It felt good to be in this room, like he was nearly himself again. "He might need an assistant." 

She put her hand to his forehead again, her eyes turned amber for a moment, then the heat faded and his head cleared. He let out a relieved breath, swearing softly. 

"I'm Ellen, by the way." Her smile was warm, kind, "I've gotta go, though, before they know I'm here." 

Someone brought him something to eat, after she had left, and he took it gratefully, feeling hungry again. He still had no energy, no strength, no desire to keep going, but he wasn't exhausted, he was in pain but he didn't feel so weak. 

It wasn't until late, when he was settling in to sleep, after Gaius had come in to check on him (looking far too smug for reasons Arthur couldn't fathom), that he heard it. He was actually hoping for sleep that wasn't due to exhaustion, or injury. 

It was strange, a voice in his head, he tried to ignore it, at first. If it was dangerous, well, he didn't really have anything that he could use to protect himself. The weapons he kept in his room had been removed, stripped clean. But, he had nothing to lose. 

So he followed the voice, leaving his room and stretching his legs. It was nice to do that, to move around, to go somewhere alone. Somehow, no one else was around him. He wondered if it was magic, then, some kind of trap. 

But, he didn't care. Let it be a trap, let someone go to these efforts, Arthur would take whatever was thrown at him now. 

He walked down the stairs of Camelot, past the dungeons, down dark corridors and staircases he hadn't known existed. 

A dragon sat on a large pile of rocks, peering at him, an actual living, breathing dragon. It looked strangely smug, he wondered if it was working with Gaius. 

Then he realized he was probably insane, contemplating the dragon and Gaius having a chat while he was standing here, starting at an actual dragon. He had heard the rumours too, but he had never believed them. A dragon under Camelot had seemed insane, surely he would have known? 

"Arthur Pendragon." The dragon spoke, his voice deep and rumbly. "It is an honour to finally meet you." 

The dragon seemed to smile at him, "how long have you been here?" Arthur asked, surely it had been before he was born. 

"That is a conversation for another day." The dragon chuckled, shaking its large wings. 

"You called me then, why?" 

"Because Camelot will burn if you continue to feud with Merlin." 

"Why should I care?" He asked, hackles raised, crossing his arms over his chest as though that would help the situation. 

"You're as stubborn as Merlin." His voice was almost kind, "none of this was meant to happen." He bent his head to peer at Arthur, he didn't back down, meeting its gaze firmly. "Neither of you can rule without the other. Your soul is intwined with Merlin's." 

Arthur scoffed. "That's doubtful." He said, he would definitely have to ask Gaius about this, see if they actually were working together. 

"You can not tell me you truly hate him." 

"I do" Though Arthur wasn't entirely sure if he could believe himself. 

The dragon laughed. "Merlin said the same thing about you, you know." He didn't know what that meant, so he only frowned. "You are his other half, just as he is yours." 

This was just getting stupid, he turned to leave. "Mark my words, Pendragon, Camelot will fall if you continue on this path." 

"It has already fallen." 

"You're a fool." The dragon laughed, stretching its large wings, sweeping them into the air to carry himself higher into the cavern. The clatter of rocks and dust rolling from the ledge he had stood on and the clink of chains was all he heard before the dragon was gone. 

So Arthur retreated, and made the slow journey back to his room. His prison. 

Arthur sank into his room, locking the door, and sat on the bed. If Camelot fell, why would it matter to him? And besides, why should he offer his help? Merlin had been dead, Arthur had watched him, but he had still come back. He had haunted him, he had driven Arthur into a state of desperate madness that seemed so far away when his mind was calm. 

He couldn't forgive Merlin for this, he never would. Merlin had taken his kingdom, his people, from him, it was everything he had loved, and Merlin had played his cards and taken it from him. 

Arthur would have changed the laws on his own if he hadn't kept seeing the image of Merlin, he would have done so much more, he would have turned Camelot into a safe place. He could have been a great king, if he hadn't kept seeing Merlin. If he hadn't, there were so many possibilities, they were endless. Merlin had ruined him. 

He woke up in the morning, aching, and pulled himself to the window. He could see the knights, and the sorcerers, training in the distance. He missed that, he missed the hot air and the ache in his muscles at the end of the day. Now he ached because he did nothing, because he sat and he took only a handful of steps in a day. 

If only he could just leave, he could take a horse and get out of here. There were plenty of places he could do where no one would know who he was. 

The flagpoles were still empty, Camelot's colours had been burned away, and he wondered if Merlin would replace them with his own. He remembered being a child, admiring the bright red glow of them in the sun. 

The door opened, Arthur didn't move. If it was that girl, she would start speaking, she would make her way towards him. If someone was here to kill him, he'd be dead already. That left one last option - Merlin. 

He kept standing there, watching the knights, before turning slowly. Reminding himself that the pain throbbing in his back was caused by Merlin. He would not forget, he would not let Gaius and the dragon get to him. 

"Hello." Merlin said, his voice soft, the door swinging shut behind him. "It's good to see you up." He said, almost hopefully, trying to start a conversation. When Arthur said nothing, Merlin's shoulders sagged a little. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like my back's been ripped to shreds." He said, simply, voice dull. It was entirely true, too, it was a reminder that Arthur knew what Merlin had done. 

Merlin looked uncomfortable, absently Arthur said "there's a dragon under Camelot." The dragon had probably been there so long it had started to make up stories. 

"I know." Merlin said, crossing his skinny (well not so skinny anymore, long and lean) arms over his chest. 

Arthur sighed. "Of course you already know," and for a second, Arthur was a prince and Merlin was a servant and he was telling Merlin that he's an idiot over something unimportant. "I think he's gone mad." But he wasn't going to be friendly, he was going to force the moment away. 

"He is." Merlin agreed. "Completely batty, too long down there I think." Then Merlin gave a shaky sigh, "I can't do this alone." He said, looking almost hopeless. He looked human, then, not like a stranger wearing Merlin's skin. Arthur found himself listening intently, Merlin was confessing to him. "I'm no more fit to be king than-" 

Arthur's blood went cold when Merlin stopped himself. Him, his father? "No more fit to be king than what, Merlin? Than who?" His voice was cold, twisting over his words. He wanted to punch him, or toss him from the window behind him. "Why don't you tell me that?" He hissed. "Why don't you tell me who is as unfit to rule as you are?" He struggled not to step forwards, to keep his feet planted firmly under him. 

Merlin was angry again, he had lost that human look to him. "Than you" He growled, "you could have been the greatest king, instead you killed innocent people." 

"And I've noticed you haven't changed the laws yet." Arthur broke in, because he didn't want to hear about how much he had failed, how badly he had done, even if Merlin was the sole cause of it. But this, he knew how to do this. "Go ahead, do that." And carefully, controlling his anger into into a smirk, into something he could use, an energy to keep him going. "You'll find out on your own, I'm sure. But I'll let you in, anyways." 

He turned to the window, peering into the distance through the glass. "When my father declared magic illegal, he was at the height of his power. He was a true war lord, did you know he took Camelot by force? He wasn't born into it, he was born a noble with a title and a small square of land and nothing else. He won Camelot, and then he earned it." 

He didn't spare a glance back at Merlin, but he knew he would be listening. "When he started his purge, rounding up sorcerers, the other kingdoms would have gained people. Do you ever wonder why magic is illegal almost everywhere? It's because my father wished it so. There are treaties, documents, alliances based solely on the fact that magic was mutually made illegal. If you change these laws, without warning, the people from other kingdoms will flock to Camelot." He paused, grinning, and turned to lean against the wall, casually, as though he were talking about the weather. Even if it hurt like hell to press his back against the hard stone. 

"This is good for Camelot, but not for anywhere else. Other kings will come here, they'll flock here. I'm sure they've heard, by now, that a sorcerer has taken the throne. I'm sure they're already on their way, perhaps with an army at their backs." 

Merlin looked almost scared, and gods, Arthur hadn't even thought of this until now. Camelot surely would burn. "I was rewriting some of the documents, actually." Which wasn't entirely true. Rare moments of blissful calm in his head had been spent sleeping or rereading some of them. "You're going to need to learn the game, and you're going to need to learn it fast. They're going to take advantage of you, you're new at this. They're going to tear you apart." 

"This isn't a game, Arthur, there are people's lives on the line!" Merlin was getting nervous, the thought of war was never a pleasant one. Arthur only grinned. 

"Oh, but it is a game, and the only way to win is to ensure that nobody dies. Play your hand right, and there won't be any reason to assemble for war. You need to know how to make your offer sound better than anything they can come up with, so you can come out ahead. I was born learning this, I've watched it time and time again. Those documents are clearly written in Camelot's favour, and I have the advantage. I know these kings, I know these treaties, I know how to play each and every one of them." His voice was gaining strength. 

He met Merlin's eyes, his expression confident, absolutely certain, daring Merlin to challenge him. "Now tell me again I'm not fit to rule. Camelot will _burn_ all around you, so you'd better get reading, Merlin, because I'm going to watch the flames start." 

Merlin looked helpless, then, "Arthur." He almost sighed, well aware that Arthur was entirely right. "I was wrong, I need your help. If you don't, think of how many people will die. How many more will suffer? I've never been able to do anything alone, I _need_ you, you know all of this, I don't. I don't know anything about being a king. You were corrupt because you didn't protect your people, you let sorcerers suffer, live in fear, because you couldn't put in the effort." 

Arthur pulled himself from the wall, the relief of no longer pressing on it momentarily releasing the anger from his face. "You had me flogged." He started, "left alone for much longer, I'd have died.

"You try to guilt me. It won't work. I know what I've done, and I know what you've done. If it hadn't have been for you, the ban on magic would have been lifted. But you weren't going to have any of that, were you? It was your way or not at all." He stepped towards him, then, face to face. 

"So tell me, Merlin, now that you've taken my crown from me, shamed my name, and turned my people against me, what are you doing next? Beg for my help? Clearly, you thought I wasn't going a good enough job on my own, and now you want me to help you. I am not your toy. I am not your pet. I will _never_ follow you, you will _never_ be my king, so if you want me to help, you'd better make me a damn good offer." 

Merlin huffed, shocked, guilted, he could see all of it flashing over his face. If Arthur played his cards right, all of Camelot, and Merlin, would be wrapped around his finger. It might not be what the dragon told him to do, not exaclty but it was the best he was going to get. 

"Four days, as most." Arthur remarked, as Merlin was leaving. "Make me an offer, Merlin," he said, turning back to the window, hands folded behind his back. "And you'd better make it good." 

The sound of the door closing was satisfying, like a breath of relief. He sat down at the table, contemplating his next move. What did he want from Merlin? 

Freedom. That's what he wanted, he wanted to train with his knights again, he wanted his swords back, he wanted to be able to walk the halls again. He wanted to leave Camelot with no one standing in his way. Would Merlin give that to him, he wondered? Could Arthur even suck up his pride enough to help him?

Oh, but this was fun. The game of manipulation was an easy one to play. He was just sitting there when that girl arrived, and as he looked at her, his head clear, he remembered her name. 

"Hello, Ellen." He said, softly, she grinned at him. 

"I spoke to Gaius, he said he'd be happy for the help." She said, setting the bag she carried on the table. "Did you want me to try healing your back? I've never tried mending skin before, but I think I could do it. Did you want me to try?" 

Arthur wondered, if it were a good idea, but simply pulled the tunic off and turned his back to her. Very carefully, she peeled the bandages off, crumpling them and setting them to the side. Her hand was small on his back, and the pain was suddenly sharp, as if they'd been reopened again. He gasped in pain, she recoiled "I'm sorry!" She said, quickly, but as soon as the pain faded it wasn't as bad as it had been before. "Are you okay?" 

"Yes, fine." He said, moving his shoulders, and it was better. The shock of healing it had nearly done him in, but with that gone it felt better. 

"They're not open anymore." She said softly, touching her finger to one of the marks again. "I don't need to cover them." 

He let out a laugh, short of breath with his head still spinning. "Thank you." He said, every day he started to feel more and more normal. And as he turned to her, as she tidied the mess she had made, he thought about Merlin. 

"Gaius told me how close you and Mer-- the king used to be." She said, he nearly laughed at her slip up. He struggled with thinking of Merlin as a king. Was everyone talking about the two of them, now? 

But if Camelot burned, she would burn with it. So would his knights, the people in the town, everyone. He let out a soft breath. He stood, gathering up something to write with and a slip of paper. "Stay here for a moment." He said, sitting back down to write. She watched him write, curiously, because Merlin wasn't going to know what he wanted if he didn't tell him. 

The list was simple, "If you would" he started. "Bring this to him. Tell him if he wants my help, these demands must be met." 

She simply beamed at him, giving him a short bow before nearly bouncing from the room. He wouldn't do this for Merlin, but he would for her, for the rest of the people who didn't deserve to go down with Merlin.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't plan on ending up in Ealdor.

Merlin had turned his people against him, Arthur wanted to be able to carry weapons for his own protection. So he could save himself if needed. What was freedom if he went for a walk and wound up dead because he had only his hands to protect himself with? Not to say he couldn't do it anyways - but his body wasn't what it once was. He wasn't as strong, he was a little thiner. 

He hadn't bothered to replace his shirt, and sat at the table, fingers itching to get started. But he wouldn't, not yet, and now that he thought about it the idea of Camelot falling to an enemy made his stomach churn. He would wait. 

Merlin didn't bother knocking, and for a second, he thought about how often Merlin had done that. That he never used to knock, he'd simply barge in. If Merlin had knocked, perhaps Arthur would have covered the marks crossing his back. For a second, he felt ashamed, but stood and turned to Merlin anyways, not letting it show. "I can't believe you! Do you really think I'd actually agree to--" 

He had almost forgotten that Merlin was human, as the angry expression he had worn faded. He'd almost forgotten that Merlin was capable of feeling sorrow for someone else, as if the parts of him that had been able to feel that had died with him. Even if he had thought Merlin was an illusion, a hallucination, Merlin had still hated. It was a surprise because he shouldn't have felt so surprised at the sadness on his face. 

He thought about lashing out in turn, but instead cut his pride down. Merlin's anger had deflated quickly, he looked young again. "It's easy to forget, sometimes." He started. "It's easy to get caught up in it all." To forget that someone had suffered at their hands. The servants Arthur had been less than kind to, Guinevere and her pain, that he hadn't even thought to send her his well wishes. It was easy to forget about everyone else when there were important matters to attend to. 

But, there was something he wanted. A few things, actually. If he could allow himself to watch Merlin rule. If he could manage it. 

"My requests." He prompted, that was the reason Merlin had stormed into the room. 

"Okay." Merlin said, his expression difficult to read, he remembered how easy it had been to read Merlin back then. He was a bit shocked by it, but there it was. All that he wanted, given to him, without question or argument. He hadn't even needed to say that his requests weren't to be discussed, he had expected to give reasons why he would take nothing less. 

He stepped towards Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder, giving him a small smile. "Thank you." He said, softly. "I mean it." And with that, he was leaving the room. It felt good to open the doors again, and when the guards tried to stop him, Merlin only nodded and they let him pass. 

Finally, he was free. And if he wanted, he could simply leave now. The fact that he could leave, if he chose to, was beautiful. And as he stepped out into the bright sunlit courtyard, he took in a deep breath and simply _enjoyed_ the sun hitting his face. He just stood there for a few minutes, head tilted to the sky, breathing, before walking towards Leon. 

The man beamed bright as the sun around him when he saw Arthur walking towards him. Striding towards him and wrapping one arm tight around him. "Good to see you again." He said approvingly, when they stepped back the others were stopping, turning to look at him. Arthur turned to them, head held high. 

"I know I haven't been the best of men lately," he started, voice carrying over the bright green grass. "I taught you never to give up, never fall to an enemy without a fight, and that's just what I did." He paused, studying their faces. "So I ask forgiveness, and if you will have me, here I am." 

There was silence, just for a moment, before the lot of them were moving. Noisily chanting and cheering for him, Arthur grinned as they swarmed him, and joined them once more. This was where he belonged, if no where else. 

It was like coming home after a long journey, he felt like the man he was again as he joined them. They sparred and talked long into the afternoon, far longer than they usually did, the sky turning orange around them. They ate together, laughing and joking like old times. And somehow without Arthur's title of 'King', they all seemed to get along better. The gap between them was gone, they were equals. 

And after that, he gathered up the old signed papers from the library, and went back to his room. And though he stepped inside and locked the door behind him, he didn't feel trapped, because we could leave again if he wanted. The knives, decorative or lethal, and his swords. He put each one of them away where they belonged, and when that was finished, he sat down to work on each document. 

The sun was beginning to rise. He had mapped out many of them, but some needed more from Merlin. He'd leave them with him, the simplest ones were completed. Things that hadn't changed, they just needed a new signature. 

He slept until the middle of the day, gathered the papers without eating and went to find Merlin. It was easy enough to find him, and the two of them sat at a table to get through it. He pulled out a few of them, passing the old ones and the ones Arthur had written. "Write two copies of this, sign your name, we'll send them off. They'll send a copy back to us." He instructed. 

He passed another page to him. "Write out formal invitations to visit Camelot, there's an old invitation in that pile. Use that, write your own. Sign it, we'll send it. Be sure to plan it properly, so they're not arriving at the same time. Space it out." 

He then gathered up a third pile, setting them on the table. "Rewrite these, two copies each, save them for when they arrive." 

Then, the final ones, only three pages, and he set them right in front of Merlin. "These three are the difference between peace and war. One wrong move, that's all it takes." 

Arthur had already done most of the work, Merlin just needed to copy everything out. 

Merlin was getting to work, "you're not done yet." He said. "You're going to have to decide what you want. These four are Uther's agreements on banning magic. One of them had bothered Uther for years to lift his ban, that will be easy." 

They spent two hours together, going over all of them. Arthur patiently explaining it all. "Thank you." Merlin said, his voice might have been fond. 

"Don't thank me yet, we're only just getting started." 

And that's how it went. 

They worked together, and when the first King arrived with an army at his back, Camelot housed them, and though it had been uncomfortable, Arthur didn't show it. The man sneered at him, trying to get a reaction, trying to get him to lash out as he reminded him that he was the defeated King. Still trying to play the part. 

Arthur didn't react, and he was surprised that he hadn't, perhaps Merlin was the only one who could provoke a reaction. 

Merlin stumbled, but followed Arthur's lead. Soon enough Merlin would be able to do this on his own. Then, he could leave. 

Merlin got better and better at this. The days went by, Merlin learned the game, Arthur began to prepare. He was going to leave soon. 

After that first time, the first angry King who had stormed into Camelot, Merlin had quietly followed Arthur into his rooms. And for just a second, as Arthur unfastened the strings of his cloak, Merlin was taking it from his hands and hanging it over a chair, like old times. Merlin offered to heal him that night, so Arthur exposed the delicate pieces of him, scabs tight against the skin. He would always remember how Merlin's long fingers were so cold when he first placed them on his back, but as the marks faded into scars, those fingers grew warmer and warmer.

Arthur had a small bag packed, already, filled with things he thought were important. Memories of his life before his father had died, pieces of him he had abandoned, that he wasn't getting back. 

It was the day when two princesses, from different nobles, arrived at the same time in hopes of marrying Merlin. This, to Arthur, was a new situation. And after a very stiff and tense dinner, where the entertainers were told to keep entertaining no matter what happened, Arthur had a bit of a laugh in his room. 

And it really was funny. 

Then Arthur had to try to come up with a solution, because Merlin was looking just as lost as Arthur was. But he probably didn't find the humour in the situation. In the end, it was Morgana who figured something out, claiming that Merlin had been courting her for a long time now, and she was finally ready to accept his advances. 

Though, he couldn't be sure if it were true or not. He used to be in touch with that, he used to know who was getting together and who had split. Vaguely, he noted that it was Merlin who had told him these things, no one else. He pushed the thought from his mind, and as he exited the room he heard the lock click, magically, into place behind him. 

He didn't want to know what they were doing in there, but he had a good idea. 

It was sometime after that, when the dust had settled and Merlin and Morgana were well into their relationship, that Arthur realized he had worn out his welcome. It was time to leave. 

No longer did he have a place here, he had helped and paid his time, now he had to go. He needed to find a way to settle the churning waves within him. The realization hit him one night, idly folding the belt into a loop and placing it into the bag. There was nothing else he needed here, no one else he was staying for. Merlin could handle this on his own now, he could take care of it, he didn't need Arthur anymore. 

He stepped into the hall, requesting that a servant gather together enough food to last a week, and stood in his room to inspect it, to make sure he had everything important. Almost as an afterthought, a passing fancy, he grabbed the faded red of Merlin's old scarf and folded it, tucking it away. He didn't wear them anymore, and Arthur had no reason to keep it other than the memory of everything that had changed. That, once, he had a close friend. 

The door opened quietly, as Arthur was fastening the clasps together. 

"You're leaving." Merlin said, a note of sadness in his voice. Arthur wondered if Morgana told him, if she had Seen it. 

"I am." He replied, not looking up from his task. "You're well equipped now, I have no more reason to stay." The clasp was fastened, onto another. Merlin made a sound, one cut off and broken, as though he was going to try to protest. Arthur grabbed the strap of the bag, the last clasp in place, and hung it over his shoulder. 

He watched the emotions flicker over Merlin's face, before he was bowing his head, just the slightest bit. "Thank you." He said. 

Arthur nodded in return, "you're welcome." He said, voice gentle. He had righted his wrongs, he had corrected his mistakes, he had paid for every misstep. He was only the overthrown King, staying in a place he had no place in. 

He stepped towards Merlin, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, before remembering how he had fallen. So he brought one hand to Merlin's face, pressing his thumb against the sharp line of his cheekbone, his fingertips in his hair, before dropping his hand and heading to the door. 

"Wait, Arthur." Merlin started, Arthur turned back to him. "I'm sorry, for everything." 

"You can't change what happened." Arthur replied, still no flags hung from the walls of Camelot, Arthur bore wounds on his back and Merlin had died twice. "It's fine, I've moved on." And it was fine, really, perhaps Arthur wasn't entirely so but everything else was. It would be okay, it would be _fine_ , and now he could go, freely. 

"Good bye, Merlin." 

He met the servant in the hall, taking the pack and bringing it to the armoury. He dressed, slowly, the shining silver glinting in the light of the candles all around him. He had learned, first, how to tie his armour on himself before anyone else was able to help him. His father had taught him that, so he would always be able to do it himself. He had seen knights unable to fasten their own belts. 

He went to see Gaius to give him his good-byes, request supplies, in case anything happened on his journey. Gaius told him to be safe, that he hoped to see him again soon, that Morgana was his half-sister. They both knew Arthur wasn't coming back, so he loaded him up with supplies and sent him on his way. 

He saddled up two horses, ones that had always got on. He wouldn't be so cruel as to allow the horse he took suffer the loneliness of the trip. And as he worked, loading his gear up on the second horse, no one stopped to ask him what he was doing. No one said hello, no one asked him where he was going. No one cared, not anymore. 

The sun was high in the sky, bright and hot, when he set out. No one else said their good-byes, no one called to him, no one stopped him. He just left, regarded as nothing more than a leaf in the breeze. He didn't spare a glance back at what was no longer his home, at the place he was vowing to never return to. 

And he didn't plan on ending up in Ealdor. 

He wanted a small village he could settle in, a place where people wouldn't know him. But each place he stopped in, each village filled with people, they knew him. They scorned him, mostly, word had spread about the wrongs he had done, even if some of it hadn't been entirely true. 

But that didn't matter, in the end, the damage had been done. He nearly wished he had died in the dungeons, then he wouldn't need to grit his teeth, lead his horses out of the village, get away from them. 

It wasn't everyone, it wasn't every village, but everyone knew him. 

When he ended up in Ealdor, nearly two weeks after he had left Camelot, he felt something like peace fall into him. These people knew him, but not as a king who had done good or bad, but as a prince who had come all this way to help them when their own king wouldn't. He was a man who helped save them from starvation, who had taught them how to protect and fight for what they loved. And though Arthur had no more fight in him, they remembered him. 

Hunith didn't ask when she saw him, the second horse loaded with bags, supplies, and together they unloaded, unsaddled, the horses. She led the way, bringing Arthur into her home. She fed him, offered him an extra blanket and ran her fingers through his hair, telling him that there was an empty home he could stay in, that tomorrow they could clear it out. 

And the next day, after the little home had been cleared out and his bags moved in, he stepped inside properly. The earth under his feet hard packed, the air smelled like dust. He had earned this, he knew, it was their way of repaying him for coming to their aid in their time of need. 

It was too late in the season for Arthur to plant anything, but he offered his horses, a bit of gold, to purchase more supplies. He was so beyond the point of caring anymore, what was his was theirs too, he offered it all up to them. He wouldn't have survived that first winter without Hunith, and his neighbour Rose, who helped him find the cracks in the old home so they could keep the winter air out, the both of them sharing their food with him. 

In the spring, he found out his horse was pregnant. And in that early morning, patting her nose and glancing at the other one, grazing not too far away, he couldn't help but feel a ripple of happiness. The horses were always split by gender, so breeding could be done in ways Arthur had never actually understood. 

He worked as a farmer, as a peasant, over that summer. Taking the boys out on hunting trips to teach them his ways. Weekly, they set up long tables and ate together, sharing their stories and their food. Arthur was just another man with them, now, but his smile never reached his eyes. 

Arthur found comfort over the winter in a group of knights that weren't from Camelot limping into the village one snowy evening. He let his beard grow in and took one of the knights, a young man with orange hair and a kind smile, into his home. The group of them wouldn't have made it back home, so they were invited to stay. 

Arthur shared his home and his bed with him, finding a little piece of him that was missing, trying to fill the ache within. Arthur loved him as hard as he could, both of them knowing that when the winter ended this would be over. He would be going home to his father setting up his marriage and Arthur couldn't leave Ealdor. 

Mid-winter a strange man arrived, he wore thick furs, unshaven with tangled hair, a hush settling over those who were in their yards upon his arrival. He watched Hunith go very still, and for a long moment, everything seemed too quiet. Then she was running through the snow, throwing herself into the stranger's arms. Rose told him that that was Balinor, and that he had once sought shelter here. Shortly after he had left, Hunith had been with a child. 

The shock of knowing he had just seen Merlin's father went with him through the day. The two of them had disappeared inside her home, no one disturbed them. Arthur's world was jolted again, rattled on the delicately laid foundations, he hadn't thought of Merlin for a year. Thinking about him again, remembering all of that, had him reeling. 

The knights left as winter ended, Arthur nearly went with them. 

When spring came again, Balinor warmed up to him. Arthur ripped a long ribbon of fabric from Merlin's scarf and threaded it into the links of the chainmail, rusted and dusty from lack of use. He crumpled the rest of the fabric, got rid of it, kept living, kept existing. 

With her old love back in her life, Hunith spent less him mothering him, more time with Balinor. Arthur's smile still never reached his eyes, he withdrew deeper into himself, nursing his wounds in the privacy of his home. Briefly rejoicing when his horse had two foals, perfectly healthy and trotting about on their shaky new legs. The children were thrilled. 

Balinor showed Arthur how to cope with loneliness. Perhaps Balinor could see himself in him, they spent long hours together, just walking through the woods, eyes on the sky, talking or simply listening to the silence. Arthur let his heart harden, let softness turn into indifference. It was easier that way, rather than continuing to ache like this. 

He thought about leaving again, as the summer heat started again. Rose's son, a little boy barely five, died one evening, the winter sickness finally claiming his life. Arthur went to her that night, she had no one else and he knew what it was like. And it was so nice to share a bed with someone again, she was just as damaged as he was, in her own way. 

But she healed, she moved on, their romance was brief and refreshing, but it would never last. 

Arthur existed for another year, losing himself in the day to day activities of his life. Learning how to live, training the horses and walking with Balinor. Who had been so young when he had to go into hiding, they were so much alike. Young, like Arthur, who had not lived long enough to experience the rise and fall of joy and pain over and over. He remembered the flutter of joy at the simple hand fast Balinor and Hunith had, admiring the way they looked at each other. Envious of the way their fire still burned for each other, even after all these years. He didn't think he could have that, his chances had all fallen through. And briefly, that day, he thought of the lovely Guinevere, and hoped she was happy. 

He and Balinor were in the woods, it was another lesson in loneliness, another way to cope, when the message came. Balinor went a little bit pale when he read the letter Hunith handed to him, and when it fell into his hands, he felt a little bit sick. 

He went back to his home, bolted the door and sank into the chair. He could see his reflection across the room, an old mirror propped up on the table. He stood, stepping towards it and bringing it to his face. He almost didn't recognize the man staring back at him. His eyes faded, dull, shadowed by the thick beard on his chin. His hair, maybe, might be the only thing recognizable, still blonde and pale and a bit of a mess. He didn't know who he was anymore. 

It was difficult to force himself out of the house over the next few days, knowing that Merlin would be here at any moment. But he kept his head up, ignoring the occasional look Hunith would give him. He knew he couldn't just brood, so he worked hard with the horses, the young ones taking to him easily. 

Sometimes, his horse would walk over to him, nudge against the side of his face in a way to show affection. He'd pat her snout lovingly, soothingly, and continued on. 

He almost wanted leave, before Merlin arrived. He didn't want to see him, it had only been a handful of years but he couldn't forget. But he couldn't leave, not because Merlin was coming here. This was his home, now, moreso than it was Merlin's. Merlin was King, he had no true place here, not while he was ruling a kingdom. 

Besides, it wasn't like Merlin was going to have time for him - he was going to be meeting his father for the first time in his life. It was just another small loss, Balinor's arrival had split Hunith's motherly ways away from him, and if Merlin came then Balinor might leave. For however long Merlin was here - Arthur would be forgotten. 

It seemed like only a few hours when the message came, that the King was just a few minutes down the road. Arthur pretended not to care, his hands dirty, plucking weeds from the soft earth. But when the horses arrived, Merlin arriving alone, with only a knight Arthur didn't recognize at his side, the crowd gathered to greet him. Arthur faded into the crowd, unnoticed, invisible, and joined a hunting party to bring in some meat for dinner. The village ate together often in the summer, sharing their spoils and swapping stories. 

But before he had left, Hunith had placed her hand on her son's face and told him that there was something she needed to tell him. 

Arthur had barely spared him a glance when he had arrived. 

When they got back, a couple of rabbits with them, Hunith greeted him, grinning widely. Arthur suspected it went well then. And even if Merlin was here, as preparation started on dinner, he was enjoying himself. These people were his family, he was skinning the rabbits with Rose, who managed the task much faster than Arthur ever could, she was an expert with the knife. 

So he busied himself with them, preparations, pleased that Merlin hadn't come to him yet. Merlin who was, he supposed, ignoring him. Just as Arthur was returning the favour. Best not to bring those old conflicts here. 

A large basin of water was set out on the grass and he sat with Sue, who had come here only a year before Arthur had, who spoke a strange word to heat the water between them. Her child, strapped to her chest with a long length of cloth, dozed peacefully as they washed the dishes that had been passed around. Old and cracked, nothing made of glass but dented metal. 

He remembered bringing her food when she had been pregnant, last year, too sick to cook for herself. 

A figure was coming towards them, Arthur looked to Sue and told her he could finish the rest on his own, to go rest. She smiled, patted his arm with a soft 'thanks' before leaving, stroking her son's hair fondly. Merlin sat down across from him, as Arthur washed, stacking the wet dishes on the table next to him. 

That's when he realized it - Merlin didn't recognize him. 

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, he didn't know when that had happened. "Hey there." Merlin said, his voice sounded the same as ever, thick and sure. 

"Hello." He greeted, and it was that moment that he realized how much his voice had changed too. It was rough now, deeper. So many things had changed within him, he shouldn't had been surprised that he wasn't recognized. But it still stung, a little, a small part of him wanted Merlin to have tried to talk to him as Arthur, not a stranger living in his old village. He wanted, a little bit, for someone from his old life to have missed him, but perhaps his absence had made their lives better. 

He couldn't even place anymore what it was that left him yearning, missing a piece of him that had gone missing so long ago. 

"You're new here." Merlin said, and Arthur spared a second to look at him. He had changed since he had last seen him, rougher and softer all at once. Still bony, still skinny, his hands still long-fingered and elegant. "I'm Merlin," he continued, "it's nice to meet you." 

He set the last dish to the side, stood, said only "you too" before gathering up three of the plates, one cup, and leaving. The others would come and collect theirs, all this time no one knew which one belonged to who, only how many they had. He retreated to his home, putting the dishes away and lingering there, before heading outside to the small bench just outside his door.

He sat there, and watched the cloudless sky give in to evening. 

Hunith's voice drifted to him, from somewhere to the left of him. He didn't listen, at first, until he heard Merlin's join hers. 

"I don't know where he is." He heard, Merlin's sounded almost sad. "I miss him, I've been so busy, I want to find him but I don't know where to look. Where do I start?"

"I'm sure he's closer than you think." She replied, "you can't give up on him. I'm sure he misses you too." 

"Does he? He just left, didn't tell anyone. I only knew because Morgana Saw it, I would have had no idea." His voice stuttered out, and, quietly, so Arthur had to strain to hear it. "I hate that I might not have noticed, how long did he have to be gone for before I noticed?" 

He couldn't listen to it anymore, swept inside and bolted the door again, sinking into his bed and trying not to think. He lay there, restless, mind racing, unable to relax enough to sleep. So in the moonlight, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Slowly, he got up and dressed, leaving out the front door towards the horses. The young ones, growing so fast, nuzzled him when he greeted them. 

He led his horse with the simple rope out onto the grass, intending to go for a ride, hoping it would settle him. There was a soft breeze, a cool wind, the world around him bathed in pale white light. There were footsteps, so he stopped and turned towards them. 

"Arthur?" The voice said, breathless, as Merlin closed the distance between them, standing just in front of him. Arthur watched him, face expressionless. 

"Merlin." He greeted, he should have known it was only a matter of time before Merlin recognized him. His voice was rough, scratching through his throat as he spoke. 

Merlin stared at him, his eyes wide, he almost looked a little bit wrecked, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You've changed." His voice was ragged, borderline desperate. 

"A lot has changed." He replied, wondering if it was truly worth it to hold on to all these old hurts. 

"I miss you." Merlin blurted out, taking a half step towards him, thinking better of it. He looked as though he were fighting with himself to come closer. His voice was too loud in the quiet of the night. "Come back to Camelot with me, please." Was this Merlin begging? Did he truly miss him that much? 

"This is my home." He said, quiet, no one else needed to hear this. 

"I _need_ you." Merlin's voice nearly cracked, nearly broke, it was a wonder to see him cracking like this. That calm smile he had worn earlier, the careful way he held himself, was breaking down. 

"You don't" He replied, without thinking, because he couldn't let go of his old ways, of the way he had forced everything Merlin was way from him. No matter how much Merlin tried, Arthur always pushed him away. And he always would. 

And here, Merlin should have protested. That was Merlin _did_ , he was stubborn and he wouldn't hesitate to fight for what he wanted. Instead, Merlin's expression slackened and he bowed his head. "Good night." He said, softly, accepting Arthur's rejection without protest. 

Arthur let out a breath once Merlin had left, and in one smooth motion placed his hands on the horse's back, swinging himself over. He took off then, into the night, into the forest, letting the wind rush through his hair. He closed his eyes, let her run, holding tight with his knees and one hand fisted in her mane. 

An hour later, he dragged himself into his bed and stopped thinking, stopped analyzing it all. He slept, the birds chirping outside his window. 

He kept himself away from Merlin during the rest of his visit, but he didn't miss the sadness in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to do that, and this _was_ his home. He belonged here, he had a place here. The emptiness inside of him seemed to have opened up again, yearning openly for something he couldn't understand. 

Merlin said his good-byes, leaving in the late morning to his mother's smile. And after he was gone, Hunith came to him and touched his hand, but she didn't say a word. 

A week passed, he was restless and couldn't get anything done. He stared off into the distance, towards the point where Merlin had disappeared, sitting on the bench when Hunith sat next to him. 

"Arthur," she started, clasping her hand in his, he squeezed her fingers. "You know you're always welcome here." He knew where she was going with this, he braced himself. "This will always be your home." But instead of saying anything more, she kissed his check and left him to contemplate everything she could have said. 

He disappeared inside, thumbed the cool blade thoughtfully, before dipping his fingers into the cool water, rubbing into the soap Sue had given him after she had her baby in thanks, and wet his face. 

The beard was coarse and rough, it took a long time to swipe the blade across his skin, again and again, until it was smooth. And when he had finish, he ran his fingers over the freshly smooth skin, admiring the burn of it, the little spot of blood along his jaw line. 

It had been Balinor who taught him how to shave. Someone had always done it for him before, now it seemed strange that he would trust anyone else to shave his face. 

Just like that, he looked like the man he had once been. Eyes faded, expression still, but young once more. 

He hadn't even made the decision yet. 

Without thought, without deciding, he gathered up a bag of food, enough to last him the short trip. And the rest he put together, carrying it through the town and giving a portion of it to every person. "You're leaving?" Most of them said, Sue's eyes watered and she hugged Arthur tightly, he held her tightly for a moment. He didn't give them an answer, he couldn't, and when he got to Rose she only smiled. 

"Good." She said, approvingly. "Don't come back until you learn how to smile again." She kissed him, one last time, and he couldn't help the small smile he gave her. As he was leaving, she leaned against the door and called to him "but you'd better come back." 

"I will." He vowed, and with everything he had left he meant it. 

He was packing up the saddle when Balinor found him. He had been running, waiting, for so long, and this, right now, felt different. It felt like he was finally chasing something else, finally chasing after all the parts of him he had lost. Balinor stared at him for a long time, before he grinned, patting Arthur heavily on the back. 

The next morning he woke up early, listening to the birds outside, cheering him on. 

He took a rag to the armour, gritty from being unused for so long. The piece of fabric still woven into it, and when it was done it shone like it used to. 

It was tight in the shoulders, almost uncomfortable. He left the building, the early morning sun reflecting of the metal. He hadn't worn it in so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to wear it, to have that power again. 

Hugs were given, the older women kissed his cheeks and the men punched his arms, admired the armour. 

He left, chasing after what he left behind. 

And halfway through the journey, Balinor joined him on the other horse. Arthur welcomed his company, they sat around the fire that night and talked. "The dragon under the castle." He was saying. "I want to release him, he's been down there for so long now, I know how difficult that is." 

Arthur understood the dragon, then, the batty thing had been alone, all this time. Locked underground, never to breathe the fresh air, only what filtered underground. Much like Balinor himself. 

"His name is Kilgharrah." He said, almost fondly. "It's time that he can be free." 

They got to Camelot in the early afternoon, the day pale and bright. People stared as they arrived, Arthur's return was sure to turn a few heads. It was the stranger with him that made them curious, obviously Merlin hadn't made it known who Balinor was. 

They brought their horses to the stables, to the ones reserved for guests. It was mostly empty. In silence, the two of them unsaddled them and gave them a quick brush, taking care of them before heading inside. Arthur was staling, he knew, because though it could look like he was simply going with Balinor for their task, he would have come here alone. And then what? 

There was only so much time he could spend pampering his horse after a two day journey. He was brushing the same patch of dark fur for the sixth time, at least, when Balinor placed a hand on his shoulder. And for a moment, he thought to his own father. The man he had killed in a fit of selfish rage, he just stood there for a long minute, staring at Balinor blankly. 

Perhaps he shouldn't be here. Perhaps it was better if he left, he had made too many mistakes. He had thought, after all this time, that he could move past them. Who was he to miss a king after all he had done? He should have tried harder, he should have -- Balinor's hand clasped the chainmail tightly, pulling him off his thoughts and shoving him forwards. He stumbled, nearly fell. 

Balinor made him lead the way, into the castle, but it was Balinor who requested a private audience with the king. 

There were people lined along the side of the room, servants awaiting orders and guards protecting their king. Merlin, it seemed, had learned how to control his expression, he had no reaction to seeing the two of them. Arthur bowed his head, staring at the floor because that was so much easier. Balinor followed his lead, and as the rest of the room filtered out of it, at Merlin's gentle command, he didn't raise his head until the door was shut. 

Merlin strode towards them, going to his father first. "Father, it's good to see you." And it only took a moment for Merlin to turn to him, give him a nod, "and you, Arthur." He added, sombre, expression stilling after the joy of greeting Balinor. 

"What brings you here?" He continued, turning back to the older man. 

"I am here to release the dragon." Balinor said, voice firm, not including any kind of 'we', any implication that Arthur was here for the same purpose. 

Arthur didn't say a word. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need you too." He breathed, he had never stopped needing him. Not for a moment.

He had only been down the long trail to the dragon's prison once, called there by a voice in his head when the wounds were still fresh. And now, he was a different person. If someone had told him, when he had been younger, that he would be this man when he was older, he wouldn't have believed it. But perhaps his fall would have been more graceful, perhaps it wouldn't have been full of struggles and madness. 

The world narrowed to the three of them, Merlin leading the way deeper and deeper underground. When the torches stopped, when the light faded to only a dim glow, Merlin created a ball of light that floated alongside them. It was blue, swirling within itself. 

He recognized it. At the time, he had feared it, but it had only given him light, guidance. For a moment he was struck with just how much everything had changed, that Merlin had been in bed, poisoned, but had still found the strength, the desire, to create this light for him. 

Arthur was quiet as they walked, only the sound of their boots crushing the loose gravel of the floor. 

The road turned, the cavern came into view. The chains were clinking, echoing through the cavern, as the dragon landed on his perch. "Balinor." The creature said, "my old friend. It has been far too long." He greeted, showing teeth. 

"Kilgharrah." Balinor replied, fondness in his voice. "I have regretted my mistakes, I did what I did because I was tricked, I wou--" 

"No need, friend." The dragon said. "It is in the past. Uther is the one to blame." 

"We've come to release you. How do we break the chains?" 

The dragon nearly grinned, Arthur found himself smiling a little bit, despite everything. It had been his father to trap him down here, he knew that. And here, this, he realized, was his chance to redeem himself, to apologize for his father's actions, his crimes. This was his task, suddenly, he stood up a little straighter, this, if nothing else came of his journey back, was his purpose. 

"The sword you brought to me, Warlock." The dragon said, voice smooth. "An enchanted blade will break the chains. Fetch it, and these chains will be broken." 

"Where is this blade?" Arthur asked, voice too loud in the cavern. The first words he had spoken within the walls of Camelot. 

Kilgharrah tipped his head back and laughed, "Merlin will lead the way." He said, Arthur felt a little bit cold. 

He didn't meet Merlin's gaze, but slowly the two of them made their way back up the stairs, the blue orb following them. Balinor stayed behind, to speak to Kilgharrah on his own. "Tell me where it is." Arthur said, voice soft but still commanding. "I can leave within the hour." 

His father had made this mistake, had imprisoned a creature large and powerful like Kilgharah. While his father had chased Balinor away from his family and his home, Arthur had brought him back to where it had started. Let Merlin stay here, let Arthur fix the wrongs his father's name had done, it fell on his shoulders. 

"I made a promise." Merlin said, "to release him. I'm going." 

He hadn't spoken to Merlin, properly, in years, he didn't think he could manage a journey with him. And he really didn't give a damn if Merlin had made a promise or not, this was on Arthur. This was making up for everything, this was his chance for redemption. "You wouldn't have thought - or cared - about releasing him if we had not returned." He said, his voice a little too sharp, his words a little too pointy. 

Because he couldn't shake his defences around Merlin, as if he was scared he was going to lash out at him, scared Merlin was going to throw him across the room with magic. Scared that Merlin was going to _hurt_ him again if he opened up even the littlest bit. 

But he still wore that one small piece of Merlin's scarf around his arm, so even if his words were daggers Merlin could see, clearly, that Arthur still held onto one small piece of him. One last bit, one part he couldn't cut out of himself. 

They were outside, into the early evening air. He was striding to the horses. "You won't be able to find it without me." Merlin said. 

"Obviously. I don't know where this sword is, I can't hope to find it without some kind of direction." But there was something else under his words, other than being ridged with dislike, something that was dangerously close to a tone he had once used with Merlin. When he had spoken harshly with kindness lingering in every letter. 

His horses were nuzzling each other over the wooden barrier between them, he patted the mare affectionately. Merlin let out a soft sigh as Arthur got to work in saddling his horse, working quickly. Merlin had another saddled quickly, and as Arthur mounted Merlin was leading his horse to him. 

They set off, Merlin leading the way. He had no idea where they were going, he could only hope it wouldn't take long. He wasn't going to bother asking him again where they were going. He had asked once, and Merlin hadn't answered. 

Their pace slowed once they reached the woods, Merlin carefully directing them. "After this is over.." Merlin started, voice soft, something close to hesitant. "Are you returning to Ealdor?" 

Arthur was silent, contemplating the question, because he had given Merlin no other reason as to why he was here. Quite suddenly, there were words on the tip of his tongue. He bit them back, the shock of them nearly making his head spin. They were _sincere_ , they popped into his head without his effort, and if he said it he knew he would mean every word. 

And he wasn't ready for that. 

The silence after Merlin's question stretched a little too far, it went on for a little too long. Arthur hadn't given an answer - the time to give on had passed, it was too late to reply. 

They moved slowly, too slow for Arthur's liking but he couldn't very well lead if he had no idea where he was going. Obviously, they weren't going too far away, if they were, they'd have left the next day, or packed supplies for over night. Personally, he hoped it would be quick, he wasn't keen on this silence. 

But he knew he should try saying something more, he should try opening up. He couldn't shake his defences yet, he was still so guarded. Something in him needed to break, something needed to change so he could talk to Merlin again. Merlin had tried, it was Arthur's turn. If only he could manage it. 

Somehow, he didn't think he was going to be able to. 

He could have walked faster than this, he thought, he could get down from his horse and make it there and back before Merlin managed it. Maybe Merlin was stalling. Maybe Arthur was no better, for not spurring him faster. 

A drop of rain fell from the sky, and he tilted his head towards it. Everything always changed in the rain, when it came to Merlin. He inhaled deeply, flicking his wrists to push ahead a little faster. Merlin seemed to understand, getting in front of Arthur again to lead the way. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked, the droplets falling happily. 

"There's a lake." Merlin finally confessed. And after a bit of digging, Arthur knew where they were going. He steered them off the path they were taking, deeper into the woods. The trail would take them too long. 

It poured rain shortly after, coming down in sheets, and in the distance he heard the  rumble of thunder. Something sparked in him, he sat up a little bit straighter. Merlin turned his head to look at him, though the rain their eyes met, locked on, a flash of light above them had them breaking eye contact, looking up at the sky instead. 

He still knew these woods well. There were plenty of natural places where they could seek shelter. The trees ended a bit to the left, stretching out into a rolling hill filled with wild flowers. He led them there, if he remembered correctly, there was a bit of a cliff that overlooked the field, and under it, a place that would just be big enough for them to hide for a few minutes. 

A screech filled the air, loud and piercing, then the groan and splinter of a tree going down. The horses were antsy, suddenly, Arthur grabbed the sword from the saddle. 

One wyvern crashed from the tree line, screeching in pain, shaking branches and leaves from it. One of its wings was bent at an odd angle. 

A second wyvern flew overhead, above the trees, circling and coming lower. 

That's when it noticed the two of them. It happened too fast to react, Merlin was swinging his hand in front of him, shooting a fireball from his fingertips. Arthur barely had time to swing his sword at it before it's hind claws dug into the sides of Merlins horse, flapping its wings and lifting Merlin and the horse up and away. 

"Merlin!" He shouted, his horse powering forwards. The rain didn't matter anymore, only the horse and Merlin, who was trying to get off of the back of the horse without getting sliced to ribbons. There was a rumble in the air, a sparkle of static. 

It was instant, and it was deafening. 

The lightning struck, lighting up the clearing as though the sun had shone for a moment. The wyvern's wings caught it, arching between them then through the horse before slamming into the ground. The sound rocked through his body, rattling his bones, he was on the wet ground without knowing what had happened, his head was going to burst from the noise. The air vibrated, clearing slowly, the wyvern was dead on the ground. 

Trying to gather his bearings, he knew he needed to get to Merlin. There was no way he could have survived that, his heart was hammering in his chest and his horse was on the ground, stunned. 

So was the other wyvern, writhing on the grass. Arthur ended it, quickly, before he was rushing towards the smouldering flesh that had once been alive. The horse was in the same state.

Merlin lay on his back, chin tilted to the sky. His breath rattled in his chest, his fingertips were darkened, and from them, up his wrists and arms, was the long, spidery trails of scar tissue. Arthur  dropped to his knees beside him, tearing one of the gloves from his hand to pat at Merlin's cheek. "Merlin." He said quickly, "hey, hey, are you okay?" Merlin groaned, eyes fluttering open to peer up at Arthur. 

"Redirected the.. lightning." He managed, voice raspy. He closed his eyes again, Arthur felt helpless. He kept catching his breath, going a few second too long without breathing before sucking in a mouthful all at once. 

"Come on, stay with me." He begged, he had seen Merlin die and return to life again, but what if he only had a few of those in him? What if this was it? He bent over him, forehead pressing to Merlin's. 

"I'm .. glad .. you came back." Merlin breathed, but he was fading fast. His breath came slower, he would let out his last one soon. 

"Don't leave." Arthur begged quietly, voice lost around the booming thunder overhead. He didn't know how many times Merlin could cheat death, he didn't know if he would come back. "I _need_ you too." He breathed, he had _never_ stopped needing him. Not for a moment. 

"Gaius .. poisoned me." Arthur was confused, for a long moment, before Merlin summoned the strength to continue. "I never felt the flames." 

His world seemed to tilt at the words, as Merlin muttered them. He hadn't known, he had thought Merlin had suffered the burn of the fire. But he hadn't, he had died before then, he hadn't suffered. 

"I'm sorry." He said, for everything he had done to him, and everything he should have done. He saw Merlin smile, just a shadow of one, and leaned in to kiss him. Merlin pressed into it for a moment, with the last of his strength, before he was sagging back into the grass.

Arthur pulled away, looking down at him. The rain hadn't stopped, he wondered how he would tell the kingdom that their King was dead, if Merlin couldn't cheat death this one last time. 

Mechanically, he pulled Merlin into his arms. One hand around his shoulders with the other under his knees, carrying him across the flowers that sagged under the beating of the rain. 

The little bit of shelter was barely more than a tent, but the ground under it was dry, no rain fell. He set Merlin down on the ground, carefully, and sat beside him, staring out over the distance. He wondered how long he should wait before he gave up. 

His horse found his way over to them after a few minutes, Arthur touched his snout fondly before getting up to see if he left any of the blankets in the saddle. 

They were slightly wet, but they were fine. He lay one over Merlin, first, then pulled the other one around his shoulders. He used the empty bag as a pillow under Merlin's head, and settled in to wait. He sat close to him, occasionally running his cold fingers through Merlin's slowly drying hair. 

The metal was heavy on his shoulders, trapping the cold water in the clothes under and preventing him from getting any warmth. 

The rain was dying down, the evening was settling in, Merlin was still beside him. His fingers were beginning to go numb. Surely it had been too long now, if Merlin was going to wake up, it would have been soon, right? 

He let out a breath, rubbing at his eyes. This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go. 

Then there was movement beside him, Merlin was sitting up, putting a hand to his head. He turned to Arthur, slowly, and Arthur let out a breath. 

He sat, frozen, for a long moment, the two of them staring at each other. Then Arthur was closing the distance between them, kissing the breath out of him because it was all he could do now. Merlin clung to him, his long fingers closing around the shapes of the plated armour, knuckles scraping against the chainmail. He held tight, and Arthur wrapped his arms around him. 

They fell to the ground, tangled in blankets and kissing, Merlin's hands trying to find skin under all the metal, Arthur stroking Merlin's hair. He lost himself in Merlin, for so long he had been lost, unable to think, unable to function, unable to live. From the moment he watched Merlin burn (but he hadn't, Merlin had died before the flames could take him) he had been yearning for him. 

How different, would all of this been, if Merlin had still been alive? 

So Arthur kissed him for all the times he had hurt him, for every time he missed him, for every day he had wasted. And maybe, Arthur could be forgiven. It was the only thing he had never asked for, the one thing he had never wished for, never thought of needing. 

Forgiveness. Someone telling him that it was okay, that he was forgiven, that all wasn't lost, not yet. 

Merlin pressed his palm to Arthur's cheek, pulling away from him to peer at him. He was shivering, a little, the temporary relief at seeing Merlin cheat death again fading away to the reality of the rain and the storm. 

Up close like this, Merlin's eyes were brilliantly gold when he used magic. The colour swirled around the centre, bright and stunning, before fading. His skin was dry, his clothes warmed. It was such a relief he almost laughed, but he had a feeling that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop. 

Instead, he kissed him again. 

"We should get the sword." Merlin pointed out, quietly, when they settled into an embrace rather than the needy kisses. 

"Yeah." Arthur agreed, nose to Merlin's neck and unwilling to move yet. 

But they got up, eventually, whistling to bring Arthur's horse away from the middle of the clearing, where it was hesitantly inspecting the burnt bodies. Merlin was inspecting the marks on his arms, the dark colour had faded from his fingers, but the scars hadn't. They stretched up his arms in intricate patterns. Arthur wondered if Merlin would let Arthur trace them. 

The horse could carry two of them, Arthur sat behind Merlin, securing his arms around him and tucking his chin over his shoulder. Merlin leaned into him, trying to direct the horse in the right direction as Arthur slowly kept kissing his shoulder, distracting him. Once they returned to Camelot, he didn't know what to expect. But, he expected to be hidden. So he took the affection that the could, now, while they had the chance. 

The journey seemed shorter, now that there wasn't tension between them. They got the sword fairly quickly, and then made their way back. 

As they neared Camelot, as nighttime settled, Arthur got off the horse and walked. He forced Merlin to stay riding, if anyone were to see.. well, Arthur wasn't ready to deal with that yet. 

The walls of Camelot didn't look so forbidding, now, they didn't look like they could still haunt him, or trap him. The peace of mind, the clarity for the first time in years, made him content, allowed him to smile. He placed one hand on Merlin's ankle, as he led the horse towards the stables. 

Silently, the two of them unsaddled him. And when that was taken care of, they went inside to find Balinor. If he noticed there was something different about the two of them, he didn't say anything. He pretended not to notice.

They journey back down to the dragon, and even further underground, to the place where the enchanted chains connected to the damp stone, took a long time. The sun would just be beginning to appear, Arthur thought, a little too early for anyone to be awake yet. 

The sword was in his hands, "I made a promise." Merlin said softly. 

"There are mistakes I need to fix." Arthur returned, and placed the sword in Merlin's hands. Maybe it was a little bit cheesy, a little bit stupid, but he stood behind Merlin then, arms around him, both of their hands grasping the sword. 

Arthur placed power into the blow, Merlin directed it. And, together, they broke the chains that bound the dragon to this place. It had a ripple effect, metal crashing down through the rocks as it fell off of Kilgharrah's body. There was a burst of fire from above, Balinor had stayed up there, Arthur suspected that he would go with the dragon now. He supposed that's what a dragonlord did.

Let it be another rumour - the Great Dragon flapping its wings into the dark morning sky, soaring into the distance. Another tale that no one would truly believe, another legend. 

The journey back to their rooms, after staying up all night, was an even longer one. Arthur didn't dare to get too close to him, not while anyone could see. But Merlin didn't seem to share that worry, and walked close to Arthur, folding his fingers around his hand on and off. It was a bit maddening, but he was tired. 

They stopped walking, at some point, just standing in the halls. He didn't know where Merlin slept now (and he didn't know if Merlin was still involved with Morgana or not), but he wouldn't invite himself into his room, everything seemed too fragile. 

"Where am I sleeping?" He asked, voice soft. Servants would be waking up soon, no doubt the kitchens were already fired up. 

Merlin grinned at him, no, beamed at him. "Right where you did before." He said, almost proudly. The fact that Merlin had kept it, after all these years, touched something within him. That Merlin had never stopped hoping for the day Arthur would return. 

"Stay." Merlin said, softly, and Arthur knew the meaning behind the word. Stay, not just for tonight, or tomorrow, but _stay_. Return to his home, to his life, so Arthur kissed him in reply. 

He slept most of the day, but when he did, someone came to his door carrying a tray of food, and told him to dress in his best clothes. Arthur was a little bit confused, but obeyed anyways. 

What happened was the last thing he would ever expect. 

In a room full of people, faces he knew and some he didn't, he was crowned King. 

Never had he even heard of anyone sharing a throne, not even married ones. They made decisions together, but only one of them held the official title. The crown was heavy on his head, an oddly familiar weight, but he welcomed it and stared up at Merlin's smiling face. 

He wouldn't have even believed it, if not for the look on his face. 

That night, he pulled Merlin into his old rooms (because the place was dusty, but exactly how it had been before) and locked the doors behind them. Merlin let Arthur taste the lines of the lightning shaped scars across his arms and shoulders with his mouth. He wondered, if things had not gone how they had been, if they would have ended up doing this anyways. 

=+= 

"Mother!" 

"What is it?" 

"He keeps hitting me!" 

"Then stop whacking him with your sword." 

With an angry grunt, she threw her hands up in the air, stalking off. Morgana smiled fondly, sitting back against the grass. To the left of her, Arthur had Merlin in a headlock, the sound of their laughter carrying across the lake. She turned her attention to her children, chasing each other around with wooden swords. 

They both had magic, but she didn't use it very often. She liked the sword better, she had Arthur's skills. And his colours, his dirty blonde hair with Merlin's eyes. But him, her son, he had Morgana's eyes and Merlin's magic. 

Both of them, heirs to all of Camelot. Alex was older, dark hair and pale skin, all bones and gangly. She imagined Merlin must have looked a lot like that when he was younger. He was her son, wild and a force to be reckoned with, especially when he got older. There was fire in him. He would make a fine king one day. The magic he used was natural, practised. 

Ellie was no less firey, of course. Merlin had stumbled across a spell, or rather a strange ritual to create new life without sacrificing another in return. It only needed three people, two who could not produce a child together, and a third willing to carry it, like Morgana. 

She was Arthur and Merlin, all together into one. Her magic was pure instinct. She, too, would make a fine queen if that was her choice. He was first in line, but she seemed very uninterested in all of it. 

It was a wonder that Arthur and Merlin could still act like teenage boys sometimes, wrestling with each other as if they were barely older than the children. 

She regarded them fondly, too, they'd stopped their wrestling and were sprawled together on the grass, Merlin's head on Arthur's belly. For a long time, it seemed like there was always going to be tension between them, like they were never going to get back to how they had been. 

Perhaps it was the children, shortly after that the two of them had come to her and requested that she keep the Pendragon name going, that she carry Merlin's child. 

She had, and she wouldn't regret it. Not ever, not when she wondered what might have happened if things had gone differently, if she had come to terms with her magic while Uther had still been alive. This way - any children who carried Arthur's name, and hers as well, could be shaped properly, the way she wished Arthur had been raised. 

Merlin was tugging Arthur over to them, grinning and flopping down beside her. He leaned in, kissing her cheek with a grin on his face. Arthur pulled a frown, Merlin sighed at him as the three of them settled on the grass, Merlin's head on Arthur's chest. 

The lake was beautiful this time of year. The sun, high in the sky, shone brightly. The surface glittered with fragmented diamonds, shapeless clouds sprawled lazily above. Arthur's hair glowed golden, Merlin's eyes shone to match as he lazily held a hand in the air, shaping the clouds into dragons that soared across the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥


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